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#CAN YOU CALL IT GROOMING IF HES OF AGE
pandaspwnz · 1 year
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really not digging how some people are reacting to the concerned posts regarding Billie Eilish, at 20 years old, now dating the 31 year old lead singer of The Neighbourhood who's known her since she was 15, by arguing that they should mind their own business because Billie is an intelligent young woman. as though no other intelligent young women ever get lured into relationships with men who are much too old for them.
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yanderenightmare · 4 months
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Nanami Kento
TW: yandere, NSFW, noncon/dubcon, inexperienced reader, virginity loss, size-difference, abuse of power, lies and manipulation, captive darling, age-gap
AN: thinking about a pervy sex therapist Nanami~
fem reader
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You started coming to his home office once a week. 
Unsure of it all, in the beginning, you were so nervous. He looked so strict – sitting opposite you in his dark brown leather chair with such a tight expression on his face. 
But you came around to like him soon enough. 
He was a nice man. Serious but tender with you – putting out freshly baked muffins on the coffee table and always giving you a warm cup of chamomile with vanilla and honey before getting started. 
And he was knowledgeable too – had that mature air about him that seemed so polished and proficient you couldn’t help but hang off every word like it was scripture.
When he told you to stop wearing bras because they hinder natural breast growth, you listened, and when he said that keeping your pussy hairless was important for hygienic purposes, you believed him because you trusted him.
He diagnosed you with virgin anxiety and has been so patient with you ever since, helping you overcome it.
Professional enough to practice with you. Sticking a gloved finger inside your pretty pussy when you’re propped on his examination bed, testing out your tightness with words reassuring you that you just need to wait and allow your body to provide the wetness – smiling at you kindly, that way old men do, more with his eyes than his lips, when you’re weeping with slick enough to accommodate all three of his lengthy fingers inside you – squeezing on him so tight.
You gush, shaking your head while spluttering apologies when you cum around them, but he just rubs your clit slowly, with veteran steadiness – telling you it's only natural and healthy for a young woman like you to be so sensitive under a man's touch – that it’s nothing to be ashamed or scared of – on the contrary, it’s something you should feel very proud of.
He’s also kind enough to give you extra sessions – at least three times a week at his home office – sometimes even breaking his own rules, treating you to a house call, coming to your apartment for a nice little chat. 
He even assigns you daily exercises for you to do on your own – though he encourages you to call him so he can guide you through it. Instructing you to wet your fingers in your mouth first before you touch yourself down there.
He listens to your little moans filtered through the phone – bated breaths and whimpers as you get yourself all bothered and needy for more. 
He tells you to turn on the camera so he can see if you’re doing it right, and you listen – placing the phone in view of your tiny fingers struggling to reach and stuff your cute cunt.
He praises you on your good job – his own camera off, for obvious reasons – he can't have you seeing his raging shaft just yet, or how he jerks it to the sight of your tight little cunt. A deep furrow between his brows and his jaw locked tight, resolute in his plans of coaxing you into giving him your first time. He groans just thinking about it, splurting his load into his fist, listening to you moan for him. “This feels funny, Nanami-san~ Is this right? ~ Please, Nanami-san, teach me~” 
He's been coveting your virginity for months now – grooming you – making you pliant and gullible, and soon, all his patience and hard work would pay off. 
It’s cute that you don’t know it yet… but your pretty little pussy is all his.
He expertly works it into your sessions as an exercise. One he promises you’ll benefit from. Telling you your condition can be blamed on never having studied a real grown man’s cock – that, because it’s such a foreign thing to you, you end up fearing it.
He reminds you how this is a safe space – tells you that all he cares about is your wellbeing – as he sets himself next to you on the couch, his thick thigh next to yours, while buckling up his belt and zipping himself free – taking his fat erection out for you to lay your innocent eyes on.
“Here it is.” He clears his throat with a rusty sigh, sounding relieved when his manhood springs free, standing proud and fat.
His veins flex along his arm beneath dark blonde hair as he strokes the length lazily – up and down slowly. Making old noises – heavy sighs and hums – dragging the foreskin back and revealing its plush mushroomed head.
You take it in with doe eyes.
“Don’t be shy. Tell me your thoughts.”
You swallow thickly at the assignment, blinking out of your stare. Shocked and embarrassed, though curious, but also a little grossed out – you’re not sure what feeling you end up with. “Uhm- It’s very… big.”
He chuckles low at that. “Come on, you can do better. What else?” He urges you, offering another deep but light-hearted laugh. “You can be honest. It’s a little funny looking, huh?”
“Yeah-” You giggle lightly in return, though you’re still somewhat uneasy – sitting as though you plan on leaving, but staying nonetheless, at the edge of your seat – eyes glued to the chubby member, studying the curve of its spine and the veins forking their way up to its head.
“Feel up to touching it?” He asks, and your eyes snap to his – lined with crow’s feet and something so trustworthy. 
But still, you promptly shake your head in embarrassment. “Oh- no, thank you, Nanami-san-” But he’s already taken your smaller hand in his, pulling you back by guiding it to his lap. 
“No, no, little one- this is what we've been training for. You won’t get better if you don’t try.” He scolds you, voice both dismissive and reassuring all at once. “Here- feel it.” 
He wraps your tiny fingers around the stout shaft and overlaps your hand with his, helping you find the rhythm – stroking it nice and slow. 
“There you go, just like that. Good.”
You hesitate at first. Giving your lip a soft bite while thinking about his previous words.
Was he right? Are you scared because you've never looked at or touched a real penis before?
You don't want to be a virgin forever – it's embarrassing as an adult – it makes you still feel like such a silly little girl.
So... if Dr. Nanami says that this will help you overcome your fears, then you suppose...
You'll do it.
You gulp and follow his movement – up and down the large and lengthy pole.
It's so warm – pulsing in your grip, twitching at your soft touch. Skin so thin, almost rubbery, holding something much tougher than you’d imagined.
In your hand, it’s a lot bigger as well. You can’t even reach your fingers around the thickness to touch your thumb.
“All of this goes inside me?” You ask, under your breath – swallowing thickly while he leads your dainty hand downward into the hair around his base, then up to the wet tip, which pilled and trickled with white pearls getting caught between your fingers – warm and sticky.
“That’s right, every inch.” He answers – voice relaxed – pleased by how well you were doing. “Does that scare you?”
You bite your lip and rub your thighs together. “A little…”
“But it makes you feel a little warm, too, hm?” He suggests. “Makes your mouth wet? And also, that soft place between your legs?”
You make a nervous sound, digging your nails into your knee, where you let your other hand rest awkwardly. 
He hums again with a soft chuckle. “Don’t be embarrassed, little one. It’s a good thing.” He ensures, encouragingly squeezing your hand underneath his while lifting the other up to your face, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear – before sliding it across the back of your neck. “Let's see you be brave and give it a taste.”
You hesitate again – this time a little more decidedly. “I don’t think I can-” But Dr. Nanami is strong, keeping your neck in a pinch as he guides you down into a bow.
“It’s alright, I’m here to help you. Just open your mouth, and I’ll show you how.” He insists soothingly. Spreading his thighs out further while laying your head down on his lap, hips moving languidly when brushing his shaft up between your lips. 
It’s so big, so hot, pumping with warmth where you kiss it on the side on a particularly fat and throbbing vein.
He lifts you up slightly and angles the tip into your mouth, creating a cute bulge in your cheek where he rests his hand to keep you down when you flinch at the salty tang getting caught by your saliva. The taste quickly coats your entire tongue.
“Mmh- that’s a big girl~ getting her first mouthful of cock.” Dr. Nanami sighs with a groan, dropping his head back against the couch cushions while pushing up into the pouch of your cheek in lazy thrusts. It strains – makes you feel like it might poke through and make a hole.
He lets it settle there for a moment, enjoying the wet warmth and the unsure movements of your sweet tongue – not knowing where to go with all the space occupied by his meat.
But then he tangles both hands in your hair, gathering it all into a neat ponytail. And, lifting your skull up directly above, he sends his cock down your guzzle even when you whine out in meek protest.
“Breathe through your nose and try your best to swallow it down as far as your throat allows.” He instructs, keeping a tight-knit grip around your hair in one fist whilst the other hand slides down to pet your cheek in soothing circles.
Forcing it down your tight little amateur throat even when your jaw feels like it’s unlocking. 
“Good girl.” He sighed once he’d wedged himself in all the way until your lips kissed the pubes at his base.
Your smaller hands dent the muscle of his thigh, offering a meager push. Mewing out a “Mrph-” while you gag around the trunk. 
He holds you there, roosting inside your throat for another satisfying moment before easing up, pulling you up by your pony.
You gasp, halfway choked on your spit – but he's not much concerned.
“Stand up- let me feel.” He rushes out in a stiff order, ignoring how you cough and slurp for air – forcing you up to stand between his knees. 
His firm hands plant themselves on your hips, being the only sturdy thing balancing you as you wobble – unsteady when he tugs your skirt and panties down until they drop into a pool around your ankles.
He then pulls you onto his lap – seating you with your back leaning against his chest with his cock gliding up through your inner thighs, rubbing against your bare cunt.
You’re still light-headed, bracing yourself against his broad chest while he keeps one thick arm strong around your waist – holding you snug. The other jerks his manhood, tapping it against your clit in soft spit-wet slaps.
“Let’s see how it feels inside you.” He grunts against your ear, resting his chin-stubbled jaw in the dip between your neck and shoulder – looking to where he has your thighs spread over his own.
“N-no, Nanami-san-” You manage to squeak out softly with a voice both teary and hoarse from choking. “Please- I’m not ready-”
But he doesn’t listen – and any struggle you try to inflict ends up aimless where you’re barred beneath his arm – strict and tough with brawn like it’s a seatbelt on a rollercoaster ride.
“I think you're more than ready for it. Trust me.” He’s growling now – so menacingly, you don’t dare speak against it. Only watching the glossy veiny beast with bleary eyes while he rubs through your pussylips with the fat plush bulge topping it – catching your clit and making you gasp before zoning down to your pretty little twitchy hole.
You whine when it’s forced to stretch open as he nudges himself inside the pill-sized opening despite your effort to climb away from it.
“It hurts, Nanami-san!” You cry, but he doesn’t pay it any mind.
“Your virgin pussy will understand it soon. Don’t worry.” He dismisses – continuing to ease his thickness into the tautness, knowing you must be feeling close to tearing apart once his head’s finally swallowed in with a pop, followed by his inches bullying through you one by one, each feeling like a painful mile. 
You cry out, nearly screaming, “Please, Nanami-san! Take it out- it’s too much-” worming on his lap, trying to wiggle it out.
But he has you under reigns, and your struggling only results in him sinking inside you faster. Now, so deep you feel him nuzzle against your womb – and still it keeps sleaving itself until it curves against your walls and pudges out in a cute belly bulge.
“We've trained for this. You need to allow your body the time it takes to get comfortable.” He coos, sounding less on edge now that you’ve taken him inside your comfort.
His chest rumbles with satisfaction against your back as he sits there relaxed, bouncing you slackly but not too much just yet.
He keeps you seated but lifts his other arm to tug off your tiny T-shirt. 
“Here, let's take this off. It’ll help.” He excuses, and you’re a little too desperate for the relief to refuse – listening to the kindness in his voice and lifting your arms in hope, letting him fling it off.
Only in socks now. You throw your head back and whine when he twists one of your pretty nipples into a sore nub – chest arching from the contact. The arm holding you in place slides a hand between your thighs and starts circling your cute button, flicking over it with a gritty fingerprint.
The friction makes your belly bloom all sorts of colors, making you lock and quiver around that big thing he has nestled inside you, throbbing against your womb as he only gently bounces you on his lap – stretching your little pussy out generously as it suckles him so very sweetly – so very wet, drooling on his lap –squeezing him oh-so-snug.
You feel sticky after a while of twisting and refusing. Feeling so full and feverish. Neck wet from tongue and lips – so wet, spit is running slow trails down your chest, cool in the chilly open air of his home office.
You still think you want to stop, but you’re not as tense anymore – resting prettily against his chest. Moaning for each swirl he does over your budding clit – having quaked with pleasure a whole of three times already, gummy walls rippling all along his shaft as you softly loll your hips on him in return.
There’s a pool of your slick between the two of you – having drooled form where it seeps around the tight edges of where he has you stuffed air-tight, running down his balls to gloss the leather seat beneath. 
He takes it as a sign that you’re ready for the real thing. 
It’s almost unfair – how easily your smaller body is held in his hands. Maneuvered so effortlessly as he lifts your thighs up against your chest, then spreads them wide. 
He hooks your knees on his elbows and braids his fingers behind your neck. It's an awkward position, but you’re completely locked in it. Unable to do a thing except wail with moans once he starts pistoning his fat man-cock up inside you. 
It’s way worse when he stands up – bouncing you in the air – holding you folded against his chest, your legs dangling over his arms, jumping as he pounds his meat inside you, stuffing your cunt full on every deep thrust – stabbing your poor stomach until you’re screaming and squirting from the pressure.
Feeling you soak him is the last straw – so tight while spraying a hot mess.
He sits down again, lifting you off his cock before fanning your clit with four fingers – making you gush out every last drop, screaming while raining on his cock until you’ve strangled it out one final time – left shaking.
You’re then ushered down to the floor, on your knees – the top of your head leveled with Dr. Nanamis's big hand, keeping your face forward as he faps his sturdy thickness at your mouth.
“Open your mouth wide.” He orders, his teeth grit while his bulbing cockhead kisses your lips. 
You listen when he gives your little head a shake – rolling your tongue out while dropping your jaw for him.
“That’s a good girl-” He praises, placing his tip on the wet bed of your soft pink tongue, giving his cock only a few more tugs before his balls clenched hard and sent a big fat load through his cock out into your pretty little open mouth.
He groans heavily, almost angrily, squeezing every spurt out – some coming out so heavy it spills up your face and down your chin – but mostly getting caught where you have your lips parted to receive it.
“Good girl.” He repeats, taking in the sight of your painted face – so cute covered in his cum. 
He smiles.
“Now swallow it all down. And don’t waste a single drop. It's rich in vitamins young girls like you need to become proper ladies.”
You don’t want to close your mouth – you want to spit all of it out and rinse the rest with toothpaste and water. But the hand petting your head is so heavy, you don’t dare. So you swallow. Sniffling at the yucky taste once it sits warm in your stomach, still so sticky and gross on your tongue.
But Dr. Nanami seems pleased.
“Moving forward, I think you’ll benefit from closer examination.” He says. “I've made arrangements to have you institutionalized here, where I can keep a closer eye on you and offer more frequent assistance. You still have a long way to go before you’re well, little one. I’m not close to seeing the results I need in order to release you from my care.”
You’re still too shocked by the former events to look confused, but the sick feeling in your gut just keeps growing.
“Don’t worry. We’ll keep training, and soon I’ll have you turned into a proper little cock-pet.”
You want to run, but after what you’re body had just been put through, aching and screaming at you like it was your fault – you knew you wouldn’t be able to do much more than crawl, and something about the still fat cock resting its weight against Dr. Nanamis thigh told you he wasn’t done with you just yet.
“Give my cock some time to rest, and we’ll try it again later.” He confirmed your fears, still with his hand stroking your head like a pet at his feet. “Meanwhile, why don’t you tell me how your sweet pussy liked losing its virginity- and how this little face enjoyed getting its first-ever taste of cock and cum, hm?”
sequel
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starryturrtle · 6 months
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It's been forever since I've posted I'm so sorry I have no reason as to why I just haven't felt like it🧍‍♂️ anyways I've been obsessed with teacher/student relationships even tho I'm a minor and it's generally wrong...before yall get on my ass I don't encourage this irl and the only reason I rlly like the idea is cuz I was groomed multiple times in the past😭
Teacher x fem student reader
Warnings: teacher student relationship, readers age not specified, cockwarming, cheating, p in v sex, self indulgent, implied manipulation and grooming
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M!Teacher who notices your grade slipping so he asks you to meet with him after school so he can help
M!Teacher who's eyes linger on you longer than the rest of his students
M!Teacher who's constantly leaving little touches
M!Teacher who runs his finger through your hair while you confide in him
M!Teacher who calls you the most perfect and beautiful girl when you act insecure
F!Reader who begins to grow attached to her teacher and does everything possible to have his validation
M!Teacher who uses this to his advantage and begins to spend more and more time with you
F!Reader who wears short skirts and low cut blouses just to have her teacher look at her longer
M!Teacher who invites you to his house to help you with school but ends up with his tongue down your throat
F!Reader who's never been loved or touched by man so she spends every moment with him begging for his affection
M!Teacher who switches your class so his free period is right after your class ends
M!Teacher who then keeps you after class during his free period bent over his desk with his cock deep inside your tight walls
M!Teacher who sends you to your next class late with his cum dripping out of you and a note excusing you for being late because he was "helping" you
M!Teacher who keeps you after school so you can cockworm him while talking about your day and interest
M!Teacher who is happily married with kids so you're his "dirty little secret"
F!Reader who felt bad but he reassured her she meant the world to him and the only reason he didn't leave his wife for you was for your safety
M!Teacher who convinces you that know one will ever love you like he does
Ughhh I need this so bad uhmm let me know if you liked this or want me to turn this into an actual story:33
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hansensgirl · 1 year
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💭 — 𝐇𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐌𝐞 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧
summary. — for so long, he’s wanted to hold you down and tell you that he loves you.
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pairing. — Dark!Stepdad!Andy Barber x innocent!fem!reader.
warnings. — DUBCON, stepcest, large age gap (andy is 51, reader is early 20s), coercion, lying, manipulation, gaslighting, grooming, taking advantage, perversion, possessiveness, obsession, isolation, loner reader, innocence kink, corruption kink, smoking, smut, Daddy kink, fingering, mentions of oral (both receiving), overstimulation, degradation, praise, blowing smoke in face, missionary, cowgirl, mentions of male masturbation, size kink (andy’s cock is huge), pet names (little girl, little one, baby, sweetie, sweet girl), creampie kink, reader is extremely innocent, inaccurate explanations of sex, virginity loss, spanking, and more. 18+ MINORS DNI!
word count. — 9k
author’s note. — here’s the continuation of my step dad!andy concept that i posted in may. this is before, during, and after the concept. i copy and pasted some of the concept and inserted it here! everything is legal. andy married the reader’s mom when the reader was 18, and he formed feelings for the reader then. MINORS DNI! 18+ ONLY! @hansensfics
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Andy sighs deeply as he sits in his room, bones aching immensely. He’s been standing by the window, behind the sheer white curtains for far too long. Fifty-one years of turmoil have caught up to him, but thankfully, it doesn’t show as much as it should. 
He feels your discomfort as much as he does his stiffness. The awkward angle he’s been stuck in is a reflection of your personality. You never socialise like you should, and when you’re forced to, it’s all wrong. 
Andy hates seeing you out of your element. The sight of you sitting on a white lounge chair in a dress you clearly don’t like is painful for him. He knows you prefer his company—that’s why he’s always offering it. 
Today, he planned on showing you his notes from court on a case about a man assaulting his neighbour with a wrench.
It’s almost as if said wrench was thrown into his plans, because now he has to watch you try to keep up with the brain-rotting chatter of unruly college girls. 
Your mother had organised the day with her fellow neighbours who incessantly brought up how lonely you are at the community barbecues. Andy remembers that day very well—he caught you crying out of frustration when you didn’t want to go.
Endlessly, he’s had to tell your mother to let up and leave you alone. Andy understands how you are all too well. Lonely, but content. You never connected with anyone growing up and stuck to your devices—books that are either overrated classics or underrated masterpieces. 
It was no surprise that you were immediately drawn to the twice exiled, unlucky man. Like a moth to the flame, you looked at him with such wonder and stuck yourself to him, yet still remained far. 
Your close connection was only formed when he found you in a pile of tissues and drowning in your own tears. Seconds away from hyperventilating, he pulled you back into the ocean everyone calls reality. To this day, however, he still isn’t sure why you were in such a state. 
The laughter he hears is either fake or simply aggravating. He can’t find yours in that mess, though, and he tries to come up with a reason to take you away.
Andy is your stepfather—he can say anything he wants. Chores haven’t been done yet, your mom’s calling you, we have somewhere to be—I want you all to myself. 
But it feels wrong—feels fake. He strives for authenticity after years of ingenuity. Before, he’d patched the cracks in the facade of his forced suburban life before anyone else could see them. Now, he embraces the breakage. In fact, there is none, because there is no farce.
From the low level of the bed, Andy unfortunately cannot see you. Even though your company is the sun, you remain in a white dress. It’s the face of ingenues all around the world. You shield yourself from the scorching sun, the brightness making your eyes ache. 
The idea of making some lemonade (for you and only you) crosses your stepfather’s mind, and he decides to do it.
“Oh my gosh—So, basically, Elijah and I’s anniversary is coming up! Apparently, he wants us to go to Vegas, which I’m so down for. I’m not sure what to get him, though,” a woman in her early twenties, like you, nearly squeals. Her excitement makes you smile. “He’s not a fan of jewellery, so anything like that is out of the question…”
Her name is easy to remember, and very pretty as well. Gianna, and she’s an interior design major. 
A snort is heard from the chair over—Kennedy, who finds humour in anything and is the nicest to you. “Sex, sex, sex! Dude, that’s the easiest thing ever. Just indulge in whatever fantasy he’s got. Maid, landlord, plumber—”
“—Ha! Let him do anal, GiGi. Get a sparkly plug, some decent lube, and spread those cheeks,” the other friend, Imogen, giggles. She claps at the end of her sentence, and the three women laugh for a few seconds. 
“...We’ve already done anal. For his 25th…” The sheepish admission from Gianna makes her friends hoot and holler. You’re not sure what to say—you don’t understand. 
“Is there anything you haven’t done?” Imogen questions in shock. “Listen, y’know that frat guy that keeps hitting on me? Well, I gave him a chance and we were, y’know, getting it on,” she eagerly spills.
“Getting it on? Just say you guys were raw-dogging and spitting in each other's mouths,” Kennedy interrupts, sipping on a fruity drink. Honestly, they’re all sweet. They keep trying to rope you into their conversations, but you’re not sure what to say, so you stick to little hums and gestures. 
“Shush!—Anyway, we were fucking, and he started to talk a lot. And it was so hot, like he was saying the hottest shit ever. He checked every single kink-box!” Imogen brags, and the others are proud of her. “Like what?” Kennedy prompts, curious to the point where her eyebrows raise.
“Breeding, degrading, praising—even a Daddy thrown in every now and then,” she whisper-shouts. “And, get this, he made me squirt!”
The women continue trading stories about their debauched experiences, and you feel as if they’re speaking another language. You’re not sure what they mean or why the things happened. Questions fill your brain as you purse your lips, trying to give yourself the answers.
“—Uhm, I can take that in for you. I think I forgot to cancel this appointment and they keep you on hold for a while during the afternoon,” you lie, standing up and grabbing Gianna’s empty cup. “Oh, you’re so sweet. You’ll be back soon, right? We wanna get to know you better,” Kennedy says, and her girlfriends nod their heads.
You join them in their motions, before jogging to the sliding door and slipping past it. You place the cup in the sink, and then make a beeline for your room. It’s the space you spend too much time in, to the point that your stepdad has had to coax you out of it on numerous occasions. 
The ceiling is at an angle due to the triangular roof of your home. The decorations might not match but they add a cosy feeling that is reminiscent of autumn. You wish the season could remain all year round. 
There is even a window seat. Andy had it built and installed for you last year on Christmas. It was a dream come true—something you’d always wanted. 
You plop yourself onto the space and pull your laptop over. You turn off SafeSearch and look up the things the women were talking about. Videos with dirty thumbnails pop up, along with articles and a warning about the setting you turned off. You’re too scared to click on the videos, so you stick to reading the articles.
But the words don’t translate well in your mind. You feel like you’re the last person in line in a long game of broken telephone. You’re left with more questions than answers, and so you snap your laptop shut. 
Gnawing your lip, you let your curiosity eat away at you. It nags and it nags until you can’t take it anymore. So you wander down the hallway and stand outside the slightly ajar door to your stepdad’s room. 
“D– Daddy? Are you busy?” you shyly question, standing with your hands clasped behind your back. At the sweet sound of your voice, Andy immediately rushes from his place in front of the sink. His hands smell of your lotion—a bottle he stole from you because he couldn't help it. “No, not at all, little one. What’s wrong?”
The older man opens the door even more for you, ushering you inside. You sit on the end of the bed, and he joins you. Your palms grow sweaty as nervousness takes you over. Bite the bullet, it won’t hurt you.
“Uhm…” you start, “I have some, uh, questions.”
“Hit me. I have some answers,” Andy jokes. 
“Okay…” you unfold the sticky note of the things you wanted to know more about—the things your friends were talking about. “What’s a– anal? Like, the bad one,” you ask, whispering and worried.
Your innocence is like a drug that Andy has tasted for the first time and it has kicked in quickly. He swallows thickly and he wonders why you’re asking. 
“Well… There’s numerous ways to have sex… With penetrative sex, you can penetrate any of your holes. And, you see, you have three holes. Your mouth, a– and your private parts. Anal sex is when someone penetrates your butt, essentially,” he explains, not sure what words to use.
He watches as your face twists in confusion. “What do you mean? They can do that to any of your holes? Like, they put something inside?” you press, voice incredulous and shocked. “Yeah, they put something in, and they move it back and forth. There are things meant to go there, though,” Andy tells you.
Clearly, you still don’t really get it. It’s neither your fault nor Andy’s.
“I– I have more.. S’that okay?” Andy immediately nods his head, looking down to try and look at your list. 
“Squirting… Can you explain that one? Please? And why do people like calling other people mean things? And getting called those? I mean, I get why someone likes it when someone else says nice things—but the mean one, I don’t understand. And why do people like using the word Daddy? I thought that’s for certain people…” you ramble, pulling at the yellow paper until it slips.
“Shh… One at a time, baby. Squirting is something that happens during sex. It’s a kind of ejaculate. And with the mean names, it’s just what people like. It makes them all happy, y’know? All tingly on the inside—like when they get praised,” he says, cock fully hard and face flushed.
“Yeah, but, what’s sex? Oh! I get those tingles a lot… But not in my tummy…” you sheepishly admit, and it piques Andy’s interest. But then, he replays what you said. What’s sex? A question that normal people would laugh at—but Andy is anything but that. “...You don’t know what sex is, baby?”
You let out a whimper—something of frustration and fear and insecurity. It makes his cock throb within the confines of his pants. “...Nuh-uh,” you sigh, ready to dart and lock yourself in your room.
“Oh, that’s alright, baby. Don’t worry. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, okay? Daddy’ll explain it all to you—I’ll be your teacher,” he smiles, but then frowns when you shake your head. “B– But I don't understand any of it! Not when you explain it, and not when I read about it. It’s all so confusing and doesn’t make one bit of sense.”
Annoyance with yourself seeps from your words, and Andy detects the leak. He’s quick to patch it up, though.
“No, baby! Daddy’s gonna teach you it in an easy way! Remember how you didn’t know what acquittal meant? And I told you the definition? Now you tell other people what it means when they don’t know!”
Andy chooses to ignore the fact that it was only your mother who didn’t know what it meant. 
“But that’s different! Even if you explain it simply, my brain just won’t grasp the concept,” you try to reason, so desperate to learn about the things that other women your age are so well-versed in. “Can you show me it, Daddy? Please?”
Your stepfather nearly asks you to repeat yourself. Your request is innocent and full of desperation—you want to be in on the joke that everyone seems to know. His cock has chubbed up inside his boxers, begging for a release and even crying tears of pre-cum.
“You want Daddy to show you those dirty little things, hm? C’mere, baby. Daddy’ll tell you all about it,” Andy encourages, motioning with his hands for you to move closer to him. You scoot your body until your right leg touches his left. “You’re gonna be a good girl and do whatever I say, right?”
When you nod your head, the older man wonders if he’s won the jackpot. Luck is on his side, clearly. After years of struggle, he’s finally got a good thing. And he’s going to take full advantage of it—he’s going to cherish the treasure he’s been bestowed with. 
“Good girl—” Andy cuts himself off with a groan as you preen under the praise, “—so good for Daddy.”
Your stepdad slowly leans in and presses his mouth against yours. The kiss is searing and passionate, but it soon turns rough and possessive. You try to keep up with Andy as he claims your mouth—biting, licking, and sucking at your supple, wet skin.
He tastes of beer and cigarettes, and the smacking of lips grows wetter and sloppier. You let him take control and try to replicate some of his movements as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. Andy holds the sides of your head with two large, strong hands.
But his touch is gentle and encouraging. You let the older man do whatever he wants to do, sure that you can ask him for another tutorial later on. Eventually, he pulls away with swollen, red lips and blown out eyes.
The pale blue (with a tinge of green) has disappeared. Like black paint spilled, darkness is all you can see. 
“You’ve got such a cute little mouth, baby. Think I can fit my cock in there, all nice and snug,” he murmurs, more to himself than you. You’re not sure what he means, but you go along with it and nod your head. Your eagerness is almost unreal—maybe because Andy has fantasised about it for so long.
Moments with his hand wrapped around his large, leaking cock after you said or did something his perverted mind twisted and misconstrued. Showers longer than they should be, and boxers gone in the wash sooner than they would.
“But don’t worry your pretty head with that just yet, little one,” Andy tells you, standing up and in front of you. He gently pushes you back on the bed, and you land with a small thump. Be brings your feet to rest against the edge of the mattress, caressing your skin with his rough, warm hands. “So soft…”
The lawyer brings your left leg up, and meets it halfway. He presses open-mouthed kisses on your moisturised skin, taking in your scent. Eventually the romantic feeling turns ticklish, and you giggle and try to writhe out of Andy’s grip.
Though, there’s a warm feeling that blooms in your cunt. You folds ache, but you’re not sure why. It’s like the tingles you seem to get every now and then, especially when you’re around the older man. 
“Daddy… I feel funny,” you tell him, and Andy halts his movements. 
“What do you mean, little girl? C’mon, tell Daddy,” he urges, genuinely curious. Is it fear? Excitement? Or something more physical? 
“Tingly… And warm… And it kinda hurts—but not in a painful way…” you try to explain.
“Where, baby? Show me where,” your stepfather demands. His eyebrows are mildly knitted in a bit of concern—curiosity. “D– Down there,” you whisper, looking away from his intense gaze. 
A broad hand that belongs to Andy makes a bold move. It moves to your mound, and pushes at your pussy. “Here, baby?” he nearly growls, feeling your warmth and folds through the two layers of fabric that protect you from this ravenous man. 
His fingers dig into your skin and find the bump of your clit, pushing on the nub and watch as you moan softly from the unfamiliar yet pleasurable sensation. “Uh-huh, right there, Daddy,” you mewl, subconsciously bucking your hips upwards.
The feeling is reminiscent of the kind you feel when you press your thighs together—just amped up by a few hundred volts. “Well, Daddy’s gonna make you feel better, okay, little one? This happens sometimes, and from now on, you gotta tell me whenever you feel those tingles. Understood?” Andy orders, and you shyly nod.
“Words. Use your words, little girl. I need to hear it.”
“Y– Yes, Daddy. I– I’ll tell you when I feel tingly—P– Promise.”
“Good girl.” Andy’s hands move to the waistband of your white skirt, and he pulls it down. Your panties go along with it, strings of wetness pulling and breaking when he gets too far. Your pussy glistens in the cracks of sunlight, his white curtains a blessing for once. “Such a gorgeous fuckin’ cunt.”
You bring your hand up to your face and shy away behind it, making Andy coo at you. He throws your bottoms behind him and pulls you a bit closer by your legs. He then looks up at you, pink tongue slowly darting out just a peek. 
Three of Andy’s digits move upwards. He gives them one long, slow lick, soaking them in spit. “Gotta open your legs wide, little girl. Can you do that for me, baby?” he requests, and you immediately nod your head. 
For your stepdad, you open your legs as wide as they can go without hurting. Anything he asks, you’ll do.
“Good girl,” he hums, and he brings his dominant, wet hand to your sopping cunt. Your stepdad tests the waters for a moment, swirling your slick around and caressing your swollen, achy folds. You gasp at the sensation as his large hand covers practically everything. From your clit down to your creamy fuckhole. “Feels good already, doesn’t it?”
You nod your head, and Andy smiles at you. “It’s gonna feel even better soon, little one. ‘M gonna get my cock in that little honeypot’a yours—fuck it nicely and ruin you for other men.” As he speaks, Andy maintains a trained gaze on you. “But you won’t have other men, will you?”
“You only want your stepdaddy, huh? Daddy’s girl—All mine,” Andy murmurs. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth, gently biting down. “I gotta stretch you out first,” he tells you.
Andy pushes his pointer finger in first, and groans as your walls welcome it immediately. He lets the digit slip into you entirely, until it’s buried to the hilt. “You’re doin’ so good for me, little girl,” the older man smiles at you. 
Slowly, he begins to thrust in and out of your channel. His finger glistens with your creamy slick, and Andy curses. Once he believes you’ve adjusted to the first digit well enough, he pulls it out and prods two. 
“How was that, baby?” he questions, but you’re too breathless and at a loss for words to say anything. You give him a simple thumbs up, hoping it’ll suffice. “Use your words, little one,” Andy urges, and you whimper out a simple ‘was g– good’ for him.
“You’re soaking, y’know that? Makin’ a mess all over my hand,” he notes aloud. “So innocent but so needy… You make such a perfect whore for Daddy.” 
Andy thrusts two digits into your drooling hole, and he fingers you with that same slow pace. Every now and then, he makes scissoring motions meant to open you up even more. “Daddy… ‘s so much now. Feels even more tingly,” you tell him, looking at your stepdad for reassurance.
“That’s how it’s supposed to be, baby. Feels good, doesn’t it?” he prompts, and you hesitantly nod your head. Andy is right—it feels so good. It’s like the fluttery feeling you tend to get, the one you felt just a few moments before, but it’s not nagging and it’s better in comparison. “Yeah, that’s it. Take Daddy’s fingers, slut.”
Your stepfather knows he shouldn’t be saying these demeaning things to you—shouldn’t be ruining you—but he can’t help it. 
It’s almost hypnotising with the way your cunt sucks Andy’s fingers in as he penetrates your tightness again. And the way you cling onto him as he pulls them in and out of you is downright pornographic—just like the sounds you’re making. 
“Bet you never even got this far, little one. All you ever did was rub this li’l cunny on whatever you could find, hm?” He wonders out loud. “Poor pussy’s been neglected. S’okay, Daddy’s here, baby,” Andy whispers, and he picks up the pace of his hand. 
He finds that rough, spongy spot inside you. It makes you toss your head back and squeeze your eyes shut, limbs trembling. “D– Daddy!” you cry out, confused yet welcoming his touches. “Shh, it’s okay, baby,” Andy soothes, stroking your sweet spot with his fingers.
Purposefully, he neglects your clit. He knows it’s pulsating—aching to be touched by your stepfather. Your volume raises just a bit, and his cock throbs with every other noise. Your pretty face has formed a frown of pleasure, and Andy thinks to himself he can really get used to this.
“W– Wait. Feels like I needa go to the bathroom…” you shamefully admit, and this time, Andy really chuckles. “You’re so cute and innocent, little one. Gonna give Daddy a cavity with how sweet you are,” he says, picking up the pace of his fingers. He makes sure to keep stretching you out, though.
“Feels like it’s burning and building, huh? That’s normal, baby. Don’t worry. Just take one more finger for me, okay?” Andy skillfully brings you closer and closer to your release. The wet, lewd sounds of your cunt grow louder. “You’re fucking soaking. S’that all for me?” your stepfather asks.
You don’t really know what he means, but you chose to nod your head. At your answer, Andy decides to push a third digit into your cunt. The fit is strugglesome—tight, warm, and snug. You can barely handle his thick fingers, pussy struggling to adjust to them at first. He can’t wait to get his cock inside you.
“H– Hurts, Daddy,” you whine, the stretch uncomfortable. Andy shushes you gently, whispering praises until the pain dulls away and all you can feel is fullness and pleasure. “You’re drippin’ everywhere, little girl. I can’t wait to get a taste of that sweet pussy,” he murmurs, and he continues to attack your g-spot. 
Your cries grow louder and more high-pitched, and Andy knows you’re close. The older man grunts, “That’s it, good girl. C’mon, give Daddy your cream, baby.” Your body goes from thrashing just a tiny bit to seizing when your orgasm hits. 
It takes you by storm. Your eyes squeeze shut and you sob, cunt clamping down on his hand. “Atta girl. Goin’ all dumb for Daddy—that’s what I like to see, little one.” Andy fingerfucks you through your climax, admiring the creaminess that coats his skin. He’s sure some has dripped down to your rosebud, and that makes him so hard.
“Oh– Oh my gosh,” you pant, tears stinging your eyes from the stimulation. “See what I just did, baby?” Andy questions. 
“Uh-huh.” He looks at you, carefully examining the fucked-out look you have on your pretty face. 
“Only Daddy gets to do that to you, little girl. No one else. Understood? You belong to me.”
Obediently, you nod your head. “Uh-huh. All yours, Daddy.”
Your words have his cock twitching underneath the confines of his pants. Andy slowly pulls his fingers out of your wet channel, consoling you when you whine from the sudden emptiness. Your fuckhole gapes just a bit, and it makes your stepdad eager to get his cock out. 
“Damn right, little one,” he grunts, unbuckling his belt and pulling his thick cock out. “See this, baby? It’s Daddy’s cock, and it’s the only one you’re ever gonna go near. Y’know, your pussy was made for it,” he hums, stroking himself from the thick base to the leaky, bulbous head. 
Your mouth parts in interest. Whatever he says and does soaks right into that empty mind of yours. 
Andy pulls you up to the bed with his other hand, strength coming in handy. He puts your head on his pillow and then crawls between your legs, making you part them wide once again. He hovers above you, and you involuntarily clutch the blue fabric of his sweater for comfort.
The older man slaps the fat tip of his engorged dick on your clit, making you flinch from the jolt of pleasure. He then slides the head down to your slightly-stretched hole, and he begins to push in.
When your face contorts in confusion and mild discomfort, Andy is quick to tell you everything is okay. “Shh… It’s alright, baby. You’re fine,” he says, speaking gently and pressing chaste kisses to your face. 
He looks down to where his fat cock pushes into your tightness, stretching you wider than ever before and claiming your fuckhole as his. The sight is mesmerising, and Andy can’t help the groan he lets out from it. 
“Taking my cock like such a good little fucktoy. Fuck—you okay, little one?” your stepfather questions, and it takes you a few moments to respond to him. Slowly, you nod your head. Though the breach is unfamiliar and a lot to handle, you’re determined to be Andy’s good girl and fight through it.
There’s a pain that burns—and you bite onto his sweater to keep quiet. Andy examines your face as he continues to sheath his length inside you. “That’s my good girl. Feelin’ shy, baby?” he coos. “Aw, how cute.”
Eventually, your stepfather bottoms out with his heavy balls against your ass. He hums your name and the pet names he’s given you, waiting for you to pull your pretty face away from his chest. “Show me those doe-eyes, little one,” Andy requests. Slowly, you peek up at him.
Your eyes are big and they still hold that innocence that Andy knows he can’t rip away from you. “Good girl. How do you feel, baby?” he asks. 
“Uhm—weird? Feels different… Deep, too…” you process out loud, and the older man nods with your every word.
“Yeah, I’m so deep inside you, little girl. All the way in your belly.” The thought has him growling, and he begins to shallowly fuck you. You mewl with each of his half-hearted thrusts. The pain is soon replaced with pleasure, one that you immediately grow fond of. “There we go…”
“More tingles,” you note, punctuating your sentence with a gasp as Andy’s movements grow more vigorous. “So many, Daddy.” Your stepdad nods his head and smiles at you sweetly, “That’s right, little girl. That’s what happens when Daddy stuffs his fat cock inside your babycunt.”
When he calls you those two words—little girl—your body reacts. You shy away from him whilst your pussy clenches around his dick, and he bites back a loud groan. The veins at his throat bulge, while his jaw clenches.
“I’m gonna start fucking you now, little one. You just gotta sit there and take whatever I give you,” he forewarns, and you nod your head. “Okay, Daddy.” At your words, Andy begins to pummel in and out of your pussy. Obscene noises come from where you’re connected to him—wet sounds and skin slapping against skin.
Andy looks down and watches as his cock forcefully disappears and reappears, your tightness still not used to such a large intrusion. His heavy balls smack against your ass, where your slick stains. “Drippin’ everywhere, baby. You love this—I fucking knew it,” he grunts, his pounds the perfect speed and intensity.
His cock kisses your cervix each time, making you writhe in pain. But when he rubs against your sweet spot, that discomfort leaves almost immediately. “Look, little one, your cream is all over my cock. You’re leaking down to my balls—fuck,” Andy harshly pushes forward at the realisation.
You wail from the intensity. “Yeah, you like getting fucked by a dirty old man, slut? Hm? Like getting fucked by your stepdaddy?” Andy questions, and you hesitate before nodding your head. He swears once more, and then leans down. 
Though he’s repeatedly knocked the breath out of you, he now stops it from moving at all as he kisses you. At first, it’s soft and what teenage dreams are made of. But then, like the way he takes away your virginity, it grows rough and desperate. He takes the lead, shoving his tongue into your mouth and doing all kinds of things you can’t keep up with.
Andy eventually pulls away, noticing that his thrusts have dulled down. He picks his pace back up, his pelvis slamming into yours. Your cream coats his cock, leaving a stain that even reaches his patch of hair. Your lips are raw and glistening from the passionate, bruising kiss he had you locked in.
Your stepfather rams into your fuckhole without relent, forcing more of your wetness out with his shaft. His length strokes your sensitive walls with skill and aggression, abusing your cunt like he’s always wanted to. 
Your chest is pressed against Andy’s, and he uses one of the hands that holds him up to pull down the top of your shirt, exposing your hardened nipples. The cold air adds to the ache of them. “Stupid little girl making the biggest fucking mess on her Daddy’s cock. Y’gonna clean it up after, baby? You better—with that cute mouth of yours.”
Nodding your head, you make the older man inhale a sharp, controlled breath. In contrast, you pant like a bitch in heat as your chest rises and falls. There’s a feeling that grows at a fast pace. It’s like when you have to go to the bathroom so badly—except this time, it’s more intoxicating than intolerable. 
“D– Daddy! Feels funny—like before, but way m– more?” You’re so unsure of yourself—of your body—that it’s utterly adorable to Andy. 
“That’s called an orgasm, little girl. You just sit there and beg Daddy to let you come, okay?” he requests, and you nod your head.
It feels like something that needs to desperately continue and be alleviated—but you know only Andy can do that for you, so you do whatever your stepdad says.
“P– Please let me come, Daddy! Need to come so bad… Please, please please—!” you gasp loudly, Andy’s cock driving deeper and he grinds with each pump of his cock, rubbing against your clit. “Good girl—such a good little slut for Daddy,” Andy hums, sensing you’re even closer to coming. 
“Soak Daddy’s fat cock, little girl. C’mon, wanna see you make a stupid mess on this dick,” he commands, landing some slaps on your ass and the side of your left thigh. Your cunt suddenly convulses around him, clit thrumming and back arching as you come around his cock for the very first time. “Atta girl.”
He growls as your eyes roll back into your head, lids squeezing shut as your face pinches. Your mouth drops open in shock from the heat that envelops you. The grip your pussy has on Andy’s dick grows tighter, squeezing him and begging for more.
Your stepfather fucks you through your orgasm, slowing down just a bit when you begin to twitch from the pleasure. Your walls spasm until he manages to get you through the high, and then he resumes fucking you harshly. Your tits bounce with each slam of Andy’s hips, your body pushed upwards before he pulls you back onto his dick. “Ah—ah—ah,” you moan, going dumb on the older man’s cock. A mildly blank look is on your face, and you babble like a baby. 
“Dumb little girl—talking about dirty things and behaving like a whore when you haven’t even had big girl sex yet,” Andy sneers, grabbing your jaw and puckering his lips up. He spits in your mouth, before telling you to swallow the wad of saliva. Like a good girl, you do exactly as he says. You even smile at him afterwards, before your face pinches again from the sensations his cock brings. “Greedy girl—that hungry pussy is just swallowin’ up Daddy’s fat cock,” he grunts, forcing his thickness in and out of you.
Your toes curl and feet point as your stepfather pushes your legs against your torso. His strong, well-built arms flex, and so does his muscled-chest. Your hands clench his sweater and subconsciously grope his pecs, and you marvel at his figure. 
Because Daddy has to do everything for his helpless baby, he takes your arm and uses it to hold up your left leg, while his left hand pushes on your right. At this new angle, your stepfather’s shaft is far deeper than it was at first.
It’s almost dizzying—the way he’s practically in your tummy. And his thrusts are now stronger, too. Andy’s got you pinned to the bed as he pounds into you, determined to bring you to another orgasm before he blows his load. And even after that, he won’t stop.
“‘S so deep, Daddy! C– Can feel it in my g– guts,” you whine, and your words make Andy’s cock throb within your tight, wet walls. Your cream drips all over his cock, leaving a thick sheen and ring coating his base. Even his balls are soaked. “Uh-huh—you’re just so tiny, baby. Daddy had to force it in—but now you’re takin’ it like a champ.”
You preen under his gaze and his praise, but your tears still leak. “Aw, poor little crybaby. Daddy’s just fuckin’ you too good, huh? S’okay, I got you,” Andy whispers, wet noises filling the air along with the smell of sex. Your sweet tang is amongst the scent, and Andy knows that later on, he’ll rub your cunt raw with his beard.
“My little fuckdoll… This is Daddy’s pussy now—all mine, just like the rest of you,” he grunts, and your second release hits you all of a sudden. 
You writhe away from Andy as best as you can, but it doesn’t get you anywhere. Instead, your aching nipples end up rubbing against the stitched threads on your stepfather’s sweater, adding to your pleasure.
Andy’s thick length nearly splits you open, having a bit of a harder time to move with your increased tightness. “Good girl—that’s it, go dumb on Daddy’s cock. My good little slut,” he moans, peppering kisses at your jaw and nipping at the skin every now and then. 
Heat spreads inside your body as the mattress gets wetter with each drop of your arousal. “You’re makin’ a mess everywhere, baby. But it’s okay. Daddy knows that little girls like you can’t help it—you need Daddy’s help with everything.”
Mindlessly, you nod your head. You gush around Andy, coating his cock while you have him in a vice-like grip. Your swollen folds get nudged by his dick, and the sight is pornographic—something he can never forget.
“Looks like this cunt is perfect for Daddy to fuck, baby,” your stepdad tells you. “Made for me to use however I want. Gonna turn you into my little whore.”
Andy’s words make your pussy constrict even more around his dick. You practically choke him, begging for his cum without even realising it. “Daddy…” you sob, limbs trembling from the amount of euphoria his actions bring. Your stepfather’s jaw clenches at your use of the title.
“That’s right, little girl. I’m your Daddy,” he grunts, now using your fuckhole like it’s his fist. He fucks into your with vigour, determined to fill you up with his cum before he switches positions. He loves the struggle of getting his dick to fit inside your pussy. “You’re making Daddy feel so good, baby. ‘M gonna give you a nice reward for being so sweet.”
At his statement, you perk up as best as you can. Though it’s difficult to think or say anything. “R– Really, Daddy?” you question, elated at the thought of a reward. “Really, little one. You’re such a good girl for Daddy—all the time, too. Never made me have to spank that ass ‘till you’re crying.”
He mumbles the last part, but you catch a bit of his sentence. You don’t understand him though—crying? No, Daddy would never hurt you. Andy’s said so numerous times—times where you’ve cried in his arms and clung to him like a kitten.
Now, your cunt does the same. It weeps and doesn’t let go of Andy’s dick, and the mounting pleasure inside him is as desperate and needy, too. “Gonna give you a belly full of my cum, baby. I’ll fill you up until you’re leaking with my seed for days,” the older man grunts, before cursing wildly.
“Fuck—fuck—fuck.”
Suddenly, the snapping of his hips stops, and he shoves his cock forward until he can’t move any further. The harshness makes you frown, wincing at the mild pain. Then, warmth fills you up, undoubtedly claiming your walls and coating them with white stickiness. 
Andy pants above you, heart clamouring in his chest as he hit his release. He grinds into your pussy to prolong it, only stopping when his hard length grows sensitive. Already, his cum leaks from the sides of his cock. 
“There we go—now you’re all mine, little girl. And I know you like being Daddy’s,” he smiles at you, coming down from his high. His face has a blush to it. 
Andy takes one of his hands and puts it on your tummy, rubbing your skin slightly to get you to relax. It works—but not in the way he predicted.
“A– Again, Daddy? Please?” you start to beg, taking your stepdad by surprise. “W– What do you mean, baby?” he questions, moving his hand to grip your hip. “Do it again, please. F– Feels so good, made some of the tingles go away…” you explain, tightening your channel at the thought.
“You want Daddy to stretch this pretty pussy out again?” Andy asks. It takes you a few seconds and his index finger pointing to where he is penetrating you for you to answer. “Uh-huh!” you moan out, gyrating your hips to alleviate the newer, fluttery feeling at your core.
“Alright… Wanna play a fun game, little one?”
You nod your head, eager to spend more time with your stepfather.
“Good. It’s called horsey,” Andy says, slowly pulling out of your pussy. You whine loudly at the loss, cum leaking out of you and spilling onto the bed. “Don’t worry, I’ll explain it for your little baby brain to understand.”
Your stepdad grabs your and manhandles your body, sitting against the headboard and placing you in his lap.
Your dripping pussy is against his hard cock. “All you have to do is bounce on Daddy’s cock—feel it? Yeah—and make it go really deep inside of you. Think you can do that, little girl`?” he says, rubbing his dick against your swollen, wet petals. 
Above him, you shudder. The pleasure is almost too much for your little-self to handle, but you push through its intensity. “O– Of course, Daddy! ‘M your good girl—gonna do anythin’ for you,” you mumble, and Andy’s hands pull at the cloth covering your torso. 
It then rips, and he removes the shreds from your body. “That’s right, baby. You’re my good girl,” he coos, reaching down to grab the thick, wet base of his hard cock. He gives himself a few languid strokes, before lifting you up a bit.
The fat, sensitive tip of your stepfather’s cock prods at your hole that’s still mildly stretched-out from his brutal fucking. Andy pushes in, pulling you down a bit so you meet him halfway. He knows it’s going to be deeper than ever—and he can’t wait to see that dumb, empty look on your face when he bottoms out.
But then he looks at your mug, and he finds himself feeling something rotten. Something terrible, sinking in his chest until his lust takes over and turns him selfish once more. No—not selfish… Just complicated.
“Daddy, feels scary,” you admit, trying to fall forward and lay against his chest. Andy tuts, holding you up and giving you one of his charming, sweet smiles. “It’s okay, I got you. Daddy’s here, little one,” he assures you, tone saccharine in a stark contrast to his dirty actions.
As you slide down his length, it becomes more difficult to take him. You try to move away from the older man—run away from his intimidating cock. “Nuh-uh. I thought you wanted to play with Daddy, baby,” Andy pouts, and your heart breaks from his sadness.
“C– Can’t take it, Daddy,” you explain to him, half of his dick inside of you. “Yes, you can, sweetheart. Let Daddy help you, it’s okay.” 
Andy’s hands hold your waist, and he looks down to where he’s connected to you, and suddenly thrust upwards. You fall forward with a cry, unprepared for the new angle. He lets you seek comfort in him and his sweater once more, rubbing his hands up and down the length of your back. 
“Shhh… you’re okay, it’s okay. You’re lucky Daddy pumped your pussy full of cum, baby. It would’ve hurt way more,” your stepfather tells you, waiting for your whimpers to die down. “Daddy’s dick is so deep inside you, hm?”
You nod your head slowly, gripping his sweater and pushing your face into his chest. “I know, little one. But when you start to play, it’ll be fine. Try bouncing, baby. Just move up and down.”
Once again, you nod and try to sit up. Andy’s hands move down to your waist, and you splay yours on his clothed pecs. “Up and down—c’mon, you can do it. Daddy knows you can,” he urges, and you begin to lift your body up. 
You stop when you feel it’s right—when half of Andy’s thickness is left inside you. Then, you slide back down. A growl rumbles in the older man’s chest, his cock throbbing as your walls stroke him. “W– Was that good, Daddy?” you question.
“So good, baby—have you played this game before?” he playfully asks, but then that humour turns to jealousy. The thought of you riding another man’s dick has Andy fuming—possessiveness boiling hot inside him and reaching the temperature of the sun. “Nuh-uh. Only you, Daddy. Nobody else.”
Like salve on a wound, you heal that vulnerability of his with your words. “Atta girl,” he praises. “How about we add a fun little rule, sweetie?” he offers as you continue to glide up and down on his cock. You whimper with each movement, muscles burning from the strain.
“O– Okay, Daddy. W– What’s the rule?” you innocently question, looking at him with your doe eyes. “Everytime Daddy slaps your ass, you have to move quicker, okay?” your stepfather tells you, moving his palms down to the globes of your ass. He caresses the skin gently.
Before you can worry about the pain, Andy lands a sharp smack to your butt, making you yelp. You pick up the pace of your movements, still careful, however. “Such a perfect pussy, little one. So tight and warm and wet… And made for my cock,” he whispers, punctuating his sentences with spanks.
Unfortunately, Andy’s cock doesn’t kiss those spots with expert aim. And you’re too scared to take his entire length. So, your poor legs give up, and you fall forward again. You cry out from the wasted euphoria—gone is the dull fire inside you. But not entirely.
“Aw, you can't do what Daddy does, hm? Poor baby. You need me so bad,” your stepdad coos, but it’s more like he rubs your failure in. “Dumb little girl—acting like a whore even though you can’t ride Daddy’s cock. How silly of you—don’t you feel stupid?”
You let out a whine that turns into a sob, and Andy quickly shushes you. Stupid Andrew, he chides himself, hurting this sweet thing… Don’t you love her? “Baby?” he calls out, trying to coax you out of the shell you’ve crawled back into.
His cock isn’t buried to the hilt like it was before, and the ache between your legs still needs to be taken care of—Andy’ll fix that after. He wedges his hand between your face and his body, pushing you off him roughing and holding your hand in his palm. You frown and cry out from the pain, face twisted in discomfort. 
“‘M sorry, little one. Daddy's sorry. Fuck—can’t help it,” he slurs, hating himself for getting so rough with you. But it’s not his fault he’s this way. You just awaken something ferocious in him—something that needs to be held down with chains and locked away in a cage for eternities. 
Something so terrible yet so addictive. 
“I love playing with you so much—that’s why Daddy hurts you, little one. I love you, I just get excited sometimes,” he explains, cupping your cheek and smiling at you. Eventually, you come around. “S’okay, Daddy,” you whisper, looking downwards. 
“It’s my turn to play horsey now, little girl. All you have to do is sit up straight, okay? Try not to lay on Daddy.”
Andy’s heels dig into the mattress and he bends his knees just a bit, still holding onto your hips. He looks down to where he breaches your tightness, and notices the tinge of pink that mixes with his spunk—the same cum that leaves out of your fuckhole.
At that moment, he ignores it. He stores that thought for later—for when he’s lonely and desperate to feel guilt. Andy bottoms out inside you slowly, enjoying the lewd squelching sounds that come with his action. “Oh, gosh,” you murmur, eyes rolling back into your head.
The hairy base of his cock touches your core, and his balls rest against your ass. Andy’s hands move to your butt, and he spreads your cheeks apart. One of his fingers prods at your other hole. The older man has half a mind to defile your little rosebud that’s sticky with wetness and his cum.
You can feel Andy’s cock so deep inside you; it’s dizzying. The breath is nearly knocked out of you, and you feel as though you’ve bared something to your stepfather that has left you utterly vulnerable. The feeling has you distraught, but Andy told you he’d take away all your thoughts, so it’ll be okay. Right? 
“You're such a good girl for me. So good. My good girl,” Andy grunts, and he’s lifting you off his cock until just the tip remains inside you. His hips then return to the depths of your wet channel. He starts to fuck up into you, and the familiar sound of skin-on-skin reverberates throughout the room. This time, it’s louder.
Andy stares at your pretty face while he fucks you into oblivion, making sure to study each aspect. From the way your eyes roll into your skull when he shoves his thickness into you to how your jaw falls slack so quickly. It’s all for him.
“Daddy—Daddy—Daddy!” you squeal, toes curling and limbs stiff yet twitching. Is it possible to be hooked on the way someone says something? You’re not a ‘someone’ though—you’re so special and so different. The answer must be yes. It must be normal, too.
Your tits bounce with each of his upward-thrusts. This new angle is unlike anything you’ve ever felt—more profound and accurate. Your stepdad fucks into you with such roughness that it’s hard to keep upright. Especially with the building sensitivity in your lower abdomen.
“Fuck, yeah. Take Daddy’s fat cock in this tiny cunt, little one. Fucking take it, slut,” Andy grunts, getting meaner by the second. It’s a helpless habit, and thank heavens that you don’t understand half of the words he’s saying. 
A blank smile spreads itself on your face, but your eyes are full of hope. Hope that you’re doing good for your Daddy. 
“You’re my good girl. My good girl—my dumb little girl. No thoughts in that head, hm? You just wanna please your Daddy and get fucked until you can’t think anymore,” he spits, and the word that diminishes your intelligence has your bottom lip wobbling. 
You want to please your Daddy, but you must be doing something wrong, no?
“Aw, don’t cry, little one. Daddy’s being nice to you, okay? It’s good like this!” Andy quickly tells you, slowing down his thrusts. He grinds into you in the meantime, and he doesn’t miss the way your cunt is gripping him even tighter. “O– Okay, Daddy. T– Thank you?” you apprehensively say, unsure of so many things. 
“Daddy’ll teach you all about it after. Okay? You’re so cute and polite, little one. You’re doing so good for me,” Andy coos, rubbing a thumb on your face. You grin at him before squeezing your eyes shut, feeling that funny sensation inside of you. 
It worsens as your stepfather continues to fuck your guts, stroking your walls with his thick member. In the midst of his actions, Andy craves a cigarette. He wonders if you’d let him blow smoke in your face since you said he can do whatever he wants to you. Of course, you would—you’re such a good girl. 
“Wanna make Daddy even happier, sweetie?” he wonders, stretching one of his arms to reach the bedside table. He pulls the top drawer open and blindly sifts through it. “O– Of course, daddy. Please? Wanna make you happy,” you plead, absentmindedly gyrating your hips on your stepdad’s cock.
Andy finds the lighter grouped with the pack of Parliament cigarettes. He doesn’t bother closing the drawer, but he does bring you closer and forces you to catch yourself on your hands.
Your stepfather—who had promised your mom that he kicked the habit—plucks a smoke from the box and places it between his pink lips. “Daddy? What are you doing?” you question, halting your movements. Andy smiles at you, the cigarette wobbling a bit.
“Don’t worry your little baby brain about it, sweet girl,” he simply tells you, before lighting the cigarette. He takes a drag from it and puffs the smoke back out, satiating the craving he had a few moments ago. He then places it on the ashtray as you watch the grey smog swirl in the blue of his room.
Andy pulls you towards his chest and holds you, fucking up into your cunt. His cock drives in and out of you, balls slapping against your ass and his thick thighs jiggle each time. 
“Uhm… Oh–! Uh, Daddy?” you murmur, finding it harder to breathe. “Shh… Don’t worry, little one. Just soak Daddy’s fat cock,” Andy shushes, and you mewl at his filthy words. 
Your cunt aches immensely, but it’s the kind that is more resounding and pleasurable than anything. Andy abuses your cream-filled fuckhole like it’s all he can do—all he knows how to do. Make you feel good—that’s it. 
He’s spewing grunts and curses, and each time he utters a filthy word, you take note of how gravelly his voice is, how it rumbles in his chest and you can quite literally feel it. It’s a harsh contrast to your high-pitched wails and choked-out moans. 
“Come, little one. C’mon, fuckin’ make a mess for your Daddy,” he demands once more, punctuating his words with hard thrusts. 
Your body comprehends his words, and it starts to have that reaction.
The one where your back arches yet your limbs flail and your head tries to pull away from the crook of his neck. It’s almost as if you’re trying to run away from your stepdad. He won’t let you go, though—he never will. Yet it makes him so hard when you try to escape. 
Your mind soars high above the cotton candy clouds of your skies. You start convulsing around Andy’s member, creaming and soaking him. Your body freezes and you let out a wail that is music to his ears. He cheers you on with small ‘yeah’s that have you giggling slightly. “Good girl.”
Your tits jiggle, and your body jerks upwards as Andy roughly fucks you through your orgasm. “D– Daddy,” you mewl, and Andy simply begins to fuck you quicker. Eventually, those sparks he brought became too much. You’re not sure what to do, though, so you simply writhe on his lap. 
“‘M gonna fill you up again. Gonna pump this cunt full of cum until you’re leaking for days. Turn you into my messy little girl,” your stepfather says through grunts and growls as he sloppily uses your pussy. You nod your head and grin, wincing every now and then.
The older man’s sloppy, selfish pumps grow erratic. Andy then stills deep inside your cunt, burying himself to the hilt. A guttural moan leaves him, one that is louder than intended. He holds your body tightly, not wanting to let go of you.
His white ropes paint your inner walls until the sides of his cock are dripping, and there’s a ring at the base. Spilling inside you, Andy turns you into his cumdump once more. “Fuck,” he groans, your tight pussy tempting him to go again and again. 
Maybe he will. His cock remains locked inside you, and both of your chests rise and fall with exhaustion. “Daddy…” you whimper, cunt sensitive and stretched out from his engorged dick. 
“Shh… Daddy’ll take care of this greedy pussy again, little girl. Don’t you worry,” Andy tells you.
Your hands are on his body, and you brace yourself up using his waist. It’s hard to stay upright with the weakness of your body and the wobble of your arms. 
Andy reaches for the ashtray and plucks the cigarette back up. He dusts the ash off, and puts it back between his lips. He inhales the smog, and then pulls the smoke away to puff out the grey fumes. 
“That’s dirty, Daddy. Don’t do it, please,” you bemoan, curling in on yourself at the sight of your stepfather harming his health. “Well, I guess that makes Daddy a dirty old man, no?” he half-quips. 
Your stepfather takes another drag, and then he pulls you close to his face. Andy exhales, smoke directed in your face and he catches you at the right time. You take a breath in, unexpectedly drawing in the fumes of his cigarette.
You giggle apprehensively—still worried and it’s written all over your face, even if you don’t mean it to. You’ve got that look you always have when you’re trying to fight back your sweet tears, trying not to burst into sobs. Eventually, the smoke goes away. But the revolting smell of it remains, lingering in his room. 
In Andy’s mind, it only makes sense a dirty old man like him would have an equally as nasty habit. 
And to balance it out, an innocent little girl like you on his cock. 
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Note
AITA for scamming my ex out of an extremely valuable virtual pet?
🐓🥤to recognize. This might be a very long post with a lot of added context for a very niche hobby and a very small actual conflict.
I religiously play a virtual pet site called Chicken Smoothie. It's a pretty old site as far as virtual pet games go, starting back in 2008, so there is a pretty solid established site economy. Just for some context, Every pet on the site has a rarity, ranging from "OMG So Common" to "OMG So Rare", being the most common and most rare respectively. But there are rarities within those rarities, where some OMGSRs can be worth more than others based on species and demand. For example, an OMGSR dog from 2008 will be worth more than an OMGSR rat from 2008 despite being the same highest rarity and year, because people prefer the dogs over rats. These pets can get extremely valuable. You can't sell them for real money (according to site rules, but of course there's a black market), but the site has its own virtual currency you can buy (with real money) and trade for called Chicken Dollars, and you can also trade a valuable pet for other valuable pets. It gets very complicated, with the community coming up with its own set of value terms each pet can have. I'm not getting into specifics there, that's not important.
Every year, on December 18th, CS has gift boxes you can adopt from. These gift boxes can contain any rare pet from any previous year, including special "Unreleased pets" that you can only get from these Dec 18th boxes, with a very slim chance. These unreleased pets are some of the most valuable and rarest in the game.
Recently, I had seen my ex posting on the forums. I didn't know he had an account, he had made it within this year, long after I got the fuck away from him, and I only knew it was him because he uses the same username everywhere. This person had groomed me, physically abused me when we were together (we no longer live anywhere near each other, thankfully) and has always been emotionally manipulative. He does not know I play, and he wouldn't recognize my account as me. I took a note of his account and left it be for a while, until December 18th hit and I took a peek at what he had got. And what he got was one of the new Unreleased pets, which currently at the time of writing this only looks like a box of cereal. (Most pets on the site have growth stages.) And even better, all his groups were open for trade, so I took a chance and sent an extremely terrible trade. I told him that this pet would only be a recent rare, and I offered him a "Very Rare" rarity (but not very valuable) pet from 2018, telling him I was overpaying. (In the CS community, this is known as Ninjaing, and it's Not A Good Thing To Do). I didn't expect him to accept it, I at least thought he'd be smart enough to ask in the trade advice thread that is literally pinned on the home page for December 18th, but he didn't. He took my word for it and accepted the trade, and now I own an unreleased pet that will eventually end up as an OMGSR.
What I did was not a bannable offence. He will not get his unreleased pet back. The CS mods are laughable at worst, incompetent at best, and don't do anything to stop scamming. They have an "eh, sucks to be you, sorry, be smarter next time" mentality when people get scammed (Which is insane because there are literal single digit aged children allowed on this site!!!)
After taking a bit to think about it, I do feel a bit guilty because I really would not do this in any other circumstances. I hate scamming. I did what I did out of anger and contempt, and I do feel a bit guilty because in essence, I scammed a new player that didn't have much else and didn't know any better.
I'm still keeping that unreleased cereal box no matter what though
What are these acronyms?
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vanishingcherry · 11 months
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MARRY ME?
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pairing: charles leclerc x reader
warnings: alcohol consumption, mentions of jules bianchi and herve leclerc, google translated french, marriage and proposals (self explanatory)
summary: the 4 times charles has asked you to marry him and the one time you said yes
masterlist
๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑
── 6 years old
Your parents had brought you to a wedding.
Your mother was the bride's closest friend, meaning you had the honour of being the flower girl. The ceremony itself was short and sweet, you watched the bride in awe, in love with her dress.
Not too long later, you were joined by a young boy your age. He was the ring bearer, also watching as the ceremony came to a close.
As the newly married couple walks out together, the boy turns to you.
"We should get married too" He suggests.
"What?" you ask, eyebrows furrowing in surprise. "I don't even know your name"
"C'est Charles. Et toi?" it's charles, and you?
"Y/N."
"Ok so now we can get married, yes? It will be fun."
"Je ne sais pas Charles, i dont know, I need to ask mummy first." You reply. On the outside you were trying to act as normal as possible, but on the inside, you kind of wanted it to happen.
To be fair, why wouldn't you want to wear a pretty dress and get some pretty flowers. You could picture it now, walking down the aisle with a bouquet in your hand and a sparkling dress with thousands of glittery sequins.
It was settled then. If she said yes, you would get married. It would be perfect. Grabbing Charles's hand, you scan the room for your mother, spotting her at the main table, awaiting the arrival of the bride and groom.
Running up to her, you tug at her dress with your hand, still holding Charles's in the other. She looks down.
"Mummy he asked me to marry him." You say in excitement, raising the hand that was entwined with Charles's.
Everyone at the table laughs at that, and you frown in response, not understanding what was wrong. Your mother, stifling a laugh herself, replies, "And what did you say?"
"That I had to ask you first. Is it okay if I marry him mummy?"
"Hmm are you sure you're not a little too young?"
"But i'm 6 years old. That is an entire hand plus 1". Adamant to get a pretty dress, you press on. Charles is still holding your hand, standing behind you patiently. He didn't want to say anything that would ruin his chances.
His mother had explained to him a few days ago why weddings happened. She had said that he would know when he met the person he wanted to marry, that she would be beautiful and kind and the best person in the world.
Pascale had explained to Charles that day that if he loved the girl, then everything would be alright, and they would be together forever. Upon meeting Y/N, he knew that she was his forever, it was just incredibly unfortunate that her mother seemed to think 6 was too young when it was obviously the perfect age.
You were still trying to convince your mother that it was perfect, everything was already set up and you were sure the bride wouldn't mind if you got married too.
"How about this", she suggests, "what if you and Charles get married when you are 25?"
"25!" You're shocked, 25 seemed so far away.
"I think 25 is the perfect age, yes? Both of you will be old enough then."
Knowing it was the best deal you would get, you agreed. Leading Charles away, you told him what your mother and you had compromised on. He seemed slightly disappointed at the news, but figured it would be okay, it was only 19 years after all.
"Pinky promise?"
"Pinky promise."
Unbeknownst to you, your mothers were exchanging numbers at the table, knowing it would be impossible to keep you two apart after today.
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── 17 years old
Charles had gotten into Formula 1.
Not too long after winning the F2 Championship, Charles had started getting calls. He was almost always on the phone with his manager, before finally announcing that he signed with Sauber. Years of hard work and months of negotiation had paid off.
That was an interesting day. Both your families were sitting together in the Leclerc's living room. You were sitting between Charles and Arthur, playing games on the TV. After boasting about winning agains the two of them in Mario Cart, you slumped against the sofa, not wanting to play anymore.
Before the two brothers started the new game, Charles got up and stood in the middle of the room, calling for everyone's attention.
"As you all know, we've been trying to figure out a deal for Formula 1", he started, referring to himself and his manager. "And I'm going to be joining Sauber next year!"
Shouts of excitement were all that could be heard for the next few minutes, everyone overjoyed for the young boy who had spent his entire life working towards this very goal.
You were the first to get up and hug him, squealing in delight at the news. Your arms were tightly wrapped around his neck, everyone else in the family forming a big group hug around the two of you.
That was months ago. Now, the two of you stood in his room, 2 weeks before the start of the new season. Charles had to go to the airport early next morning, joining the team for a few days in the simulator. However, as normal, he had left packing till the very last minute.
He'd called you over a few hours ago, freaking out over what to pack and what to leave behind. You went over, entering his room to see clothes scattered everywhere. Rolling your eyes, you start directing him, telling him to clean up while you sort through the piles to figure out what he needs.
Over an hour later, the two of you fall on the bed, tired after having run all over the house to find everything Charles needed. Everything was done, packed up in the suitcase that would accompany him around the world.
Too late to sleep, the two of you opted to stay in his room and talk, whiling away the few hours before he had to head to the airport.
"My god Y/N, marry me will you?"
Blushing in response, you turn to face him. "What?"
Oblivious as he was, Charles had absolutely no idea of your growing crush on him. It had been going on for years, but you never said anything to him, too scared to ruin your friendship.
You were already the subject of teasing from both Lorenzo and Arthur, who had been blackmailed into not telling Charles. Pascale and your own parents hadn't yet commented on the relationship, choosing to let young love play out.
Charles had no idea, none at all. Never had he made any move that suggested he knew or felt the same way. Hence, a proposal was definitely not what you expected when you walking into his house earlier in the day.
"I don't know what I would do without you Y/N. Honestly Fred would've killed me if I showed up with only half the things I needed."
You let out a small chuckle. "We are a bit too young to get married, no?"
He turns back to face the ceiling. "I guess so."
2 hours later, you found yourself waving him off as he entered the terminal, heading to the Sauber headquarters for a week before pre-season testing, your heart still beating faster any time you thought of the conversation that had taken place.
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── 20 years old
Charles was drunk.
It was a night out in Monaco. Most of the drivers could be found in the club, packed together, dancing and drinking following the grand prix earlier in the day.
Charles hadn't finished in a good position, meaning he was more than eager to drink the night away. You, tired after a day at the paddock, decided to go home instead.
From the moment he got the first drink down, all he could talk about was you. He would go around to all the drivers, asking them if they had seen how pretty you looked earlier today, or telling them a story about something you did as a child.
"Have I told you about the time we were matching on halloween?"
"Y/N got in so much trouble in school that day."
"She was so excited when she got to meet her favourite singer today!"
He was smitten, all of them knew it, and so they sat there and listened with smirks on their faces. Finally, tired of all the whining, Pierre dropped off Charles at your apartment.
Waking up to a phone call and multiple knocks on your door, you walked into your living room, quickly opening the door to see a grinning Pierre at your door, Charles leaning against him.
"He was being annoying, you can keep him", the frenchman says, tilting his head in Charles direction. "He's drunk."
"I can see that", you mutter, still slightly annoyed at the fact that you were woken up in the middle of the night, but grateful that Charles hadn't ended up walking the streets of Monaco alone.
The drunk man stumbled into your arms, waiting patiently for you to finish thanking Pierre who swiftly headed back to the club.
So, at around 1 in the morning, you found yourself awake and half carrying Charles to the sofa. He fell against it, leaning back and closing his eyes as you went to get a glass of water.
You see his face light up when you enter the room. Leaving the glass on the table for him to drink, you go get some pillows from your room.
Coming back, you see that he had already finished his water, and was looking at you intently.
"Tu es si belle. Have I ever told you that?" you are so beautiful
"Oui, et tu est tout aussi beau" yes, and you are just as handsome
Your crush still existed, perhaps even more so than before. It was impossible to deny the fact that he had only grown more attractive in the last few years. However, knowing it was just his drunk self talking, you chose the ignore the butterflies in your stomach.
He doesn't reply, watching as you set everything up comfortably before lying back. Just as you're about to leave to switch off the light, he grabs your hand, forcing you to turn around.
"Marry me Y/N."
The surprise on your face was as clear as day, but Charles's drunk self seemed to see right past it. He kept his eyes on your own, waiting for a response.
"How about you take me out on a date first?" you laugh in response, fluffing up the pillow and placing a blanket on his body. He falls asleep within seconds, and you sport a small smile as you watched him, before making your way to the comfort of your own bed.
The next day, you woke up to breakfast in bed. A stack of pancakes accompanied by grinning Charles and a note that read "Will you go out with me?"
Regardless to say, the date went amazing. It was simple, just the two of you hanging out in your favourite places in Monaco, drinking coffee and making jokes.
It was only a month later when Charles officially asked you to be his girlfriend during a movie night at home, to which you promptly replied a yes. And just another month after that when you heard him whisper a small "je t'aime" as you drifted off to sleep in a hotel room.
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── 24 years old
Ferrari had finally made a good car.
It was the final race of the season and the battle raged on between Charles and Max. Both had an equal chance of winning the championship, Charles only 2 points behind Max in the leaderboard. Whoever won this race would win it all.
You were sitting in the garage, gaze not shifting from the screen in front of you. You watched the two drivers continuously switch positions, going from P1 to P2 and vice versa.
Max having lead for the last few laps, you stood up in joy when Charles overtook him at the end of the penultimate lap. Just 1 more lap. Charles was one lap away from being the World Champion.
You watched as Max's rear tire locked up in the second sector, increasing the gap to 2 seconds. The joy in your heart was bubbling up as Charles got closer and closer to the finish line. Joining the rest of the engineers, you leaned over the railings, watching as he crossed the finish line.
Immediately you ran to the pit wall, grabbing a pair of headphones.
"Amour you did it! World Champion!" You couldn't contain your delight, tears of joy falling as you go around hugging everyone in sight.
"Oh my god. We did it! We did it!" You heard his voice come through. "Thank you to everyone oh my god. I cannot believe it. I love you." Your grin becomes even wider at the last line directed towards you.
"Je t'aime Charles. Oh my god you did it."
Shouts of "yes" and "oh my god" were all that could be heard for the next few seconds. You stood there and listened, knowing just how much Charles deserved it. He had worked every day, either by himself in the gym or with the engineers, figuring out strategies for the next race. He deserved this more than anyone else.
Leaving the headphones near one of the many computers, you run to where the rest of the engineers were gathering. The red car parks at P1, and you look on in unfiltered glee as Charles jumps out, raising his hands in celebration.
He runs over to you, grabbing your face before pulling you in for a kiss. Knowing that there were people watching you, he keeps its short, but its passionate nonetheless.
When he pulls away, you see the shine in his eyes, helmet still on as everyone working at Ferrari rushes over to pat him on the back or give a hug.
Arthur, Lorenzo and his mother are there as well. The former having come P3 in his race earlier in the day, and the latter two having made the trip from Monaco to watch the climatic ending to the season.
You stand to the side with them when Charles heads to the cooldown room, talking to Pascale.
"Herve serait fiere, si fiere" herve would be proud, so proud.
"Et Jules aussi", you add. and jules too "He won it for them."
She smiled. Not too long after, an engineer walked over to you, directing you to the stage. He claimed that Charles wanted you to watch from closer.
5 minutes later, standing off to the side, you look on as he is handed the championship trophy. Cheering alongside everyone else, the delight is evident on your face as he raises it above his head.
The celebrations start. You watch as the engineers filter in, each holding their own bottle of champagne. Catching your eyes, Charles walks over, pulls you up on the podium with him, immediately drenching you in champagne. The celebrations continue as more and more people join.
He hugs you tight, blocking your line of sight. The noise is overwhelming, but in that moment, it's just the two of you. You hug him back, whispering in his ear, unaware of everyone else leaving the podium. I love you, I am so proud of you.
When it's just the two of you left, Charles pulls back. You look around in surprise, turning back to Charles to tell him to get off the podium, gasping when you realise what he was doing.
He was down on one knee, looking at you as though you had hung the stars in the sky. In his hand was a small box that held the most beautiful ring you had ever seen. The diamond in the center shone under the bright lights, but nothing could distract you from Charles.
"Veux-tu m'epouser, mon amour?" will you marry me, my love
You nod almost immediately, tears still falling as your hands cover your mouth in shock. Yes, yes, yes. You get down to Charles's level, hugging him tighter than ever before. You hear him chuckle in your ear, kissing your neck as he too feels a few tears fall out.
You aren't sure how long the two of you stay that way, finding comfort in each others embrace, but you are startled when you hear the roar of the crowd. Leaning back, you can't help but laugh when you see all the drivers and thousands of fans clapping and celebrating your engagement.
Arthur is standing next to Pierre, the both of them hooting and cheering, knowing just how much behind-the-scenes encouragement it took for Charles to agree to proposing.
Looking back at Charles, you find him already looking at you. Giving him a kiss, you let him put the ring on your finger, cheek's hurting from how much you had smiled in the last hour.
It slips on with ease, and the diamonds seem to sparkle even more under the bright lights.
"Only took 4 times for you to say yes, eh?"
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rad-batson · 11 months
Text
Damian Wayne Headcanons :) in which I give him actual character growth, suck it dc writers
this is extremely long, I am not sorry
He has literally no footsteps, you cannot hear him walk, even when he stomps around in one of those moods, it’s just barely a little *pat pat pat*
He doodles on everything. With everything. Some Gothamites have found intricate floral designs etched into the roof or random brick walls (most likely with a knife) after seeing Robin patrol.
He has like 20 weighted blankets, all different weights and sizes depending on his mood.
His favorite item in his room is a silver Nintendo DS. (He likes to use the little chat rooms, even if no one else is on the other end. He doodles and writes little messages. It’s like his diary.)
He loves all animals, and that includes the creepy ones. Especially the creepy ones.
Once, Tim started screaming bloody murder over a massive bug with a bajillion legs in his room. Damian now houses it in an enclosure in his bedroom. Her name is Mildred, Millie for short.
When he was in the LoA, he was forbidden from stimming in front of others. It took two years for anyone in the batfamily to ever witness him stimming.
His most common stimming behaviors are shaking out his hands, scratching his palms, and rubbing his hands across different surfaces. When he’s really stressed, he’ll snap his fingers.
He absolutely hates cameras. They’re loud and make him uncomfortable. One reporter almost got scratched when they got too close to him with the flash on. He only barely tolerates the security cameras in the manor. Barely.
He can and will be roped into any dare imaginable. Bruce repeatedly forbids him from taking dares from his siblings for months at a time.
He has a compartment in his utility belt dedicated to treats for any animal he sees on patrol.
When he’s tired, he’ll speak a mixture of Arabic, Mandarin, and English. Only Bruce can make sense of it, and occasionally Jason.
Bruce absolutely refuses to yell at Damian. Even if some of his other kids argue that he’s being too nice, he’ll only use his Batman voice and his Soft But Disappointed Dad Voice, but he will Never yell.
(He doesn’t tell them it’s because of what happened the first and only time he yelled at Damian. Bruce moved his hand a bit, and Damian flinched wildly. Bruce cried for hours over the implications of that.)
Damian only feels comfortable sitting if he can clearly see the main entrance. If not, he’ll sit with his back against a wall or he’ll stand.
He dutifully takes the responsibility of feeding and grooming every Wayne animal. They receive the most nutritious and filling meals on the market (all while receiving lots of head pats.)
He has very strong eyebrows just like his father. They tend to pull the same exasperated expressions too, highlighting their resemblance.
Talia taught Damian at a very young age how to write perfectly with both hands. He no longer remembers if he is naturally left or right-handed.
The one insult he cannot handle is “spoiled brat.” A few months after he arrived, someone in the family called him that as a joke, and he completely shut down emotionally. No anger, no sadness, no resentment. Literally just nothing. For days. No one knows why, but they will never let it happen again.
You know he’s Up to Something TM if he swings his legs back and forth while he sits.
He is obsessed with those cheap TV documentaries about famous plane crashes and shipwrecks. After finishing one, he’ll find the nearest family member and tell them all about it: how it happened, what human error caused it, and his fool-proof plan for if it ever happens again and he is nearby. Usually, it’s Alfred.
For the first few years at the manor, Damian’s favorite spot is the family graveyard. Everyone calls him dramatic. He just likes how it’s so quiet. (And he’s dramatic.)
When Jason waxes poetics about dying over dinner, Damian just groans and says, “So have I. You’re not special.” That’s how the family learns he was repeatedly revived in the Lazarus Pit due to the fatal nature of his training and abuse.
His first ever crush was on the cute male tech at Alfred the Cat’s vet. Damian was 12. Jason, who accompanied him, proceeded to give him both The Talk (“It’s okay to like boys”) and The Talk (“Your body is ✨changing✨”) on the drive home.
He will not text back unless it is absolutely necessary. He will leave people on read. He does not hate you. (…Probably.)
Titus is a registered therapy dog, trained in helping Damian through panic attacks and sensory overload. If you ever see Damian asleep on the floor, eyes cried out with Titus resting on top of him, you know why.
When he was 13, he tried to fake his own death after he failed a test at school and “dishonored the family name.” Bruce and Dick had to sit him down and explain that grades aren’t everything, and they still love him unconditionally.
He talks to animals like they’re human. He has a habit of venting his frustrations to Batcow in particular. And his fish while he feeds them.
His love language to others is a mixture of gifts and quality time, usually without words.
One day, Damian was snooping around the house and found that one of the electrical closets leads to a tiny space—barely two feet wide—in between the sheetrock and the foundation wall with nothing but a single hanging lightbulb. It took years before anyone else found it, but by then, Damian had painted an 8x10 ft mural on the wall and created a small bed of blankets and pillows for when he needs a quiet place to escape unwanted stimuli.
When he sleeps, his cheeks puff out like a little chipmunk. It’s adorable.
During the Winter Olympics one year, Damian falls in love with figure skating and decides he wants to try it out, but he never asks to take up lessons in fear that he will be horrible at it.
Duke figures this out and now takes him ice skating just enough to avoid suspicion. It’s become their bonding activity.
Once, Jason and Tim made him try a Sour Patch Kids-flavored energy drink. He immediately spit it out and said, “What the fuck?! That’s even worse than drinking from the Lazarus Pit.” And that’s how the family learns that Ra’s made Damian drink from the Lazarus Pit a few times.
One day, Steph told Damian about the wonders of concealed self defense products. Now, about 80% of the mundane items Damian owns is secretly a knife. He will purchase any item that is secretly a knife. Including several fake lipstick tubes.
He has rigorous self-control when it comes to sleep. Sure, his schedule is a bit fucked up for someone his age, but he is in bed and asleep exactly when he tells himself. (His siblings could never.)
His entire wardrobe is soft items he “found” stole from the laundry room. If it’s comfortable, it’s his now. (No one complains. In fact, having Damian steal your clothes is considered a privilege.)
He hates whenever Alfred tries to recreate dishes from his childhood. It’s just not the same. Alfred understands.
When he’s really stressed—like the “I am one stubbed toe away from a complete meltdown” stressed—he will finger paint. He likes the feeling of it on his skin.
Due to his time in the LoA, Damian has a habit of never telling anyone if he’s injured. Instead, he’ll pretend nothing’s wrong until he passes out or literally can’t move right and someone calls him out. He’s working on it, though.
There’s a massive system of fish tanks in his room complete with handmade decor and multiple venomous species. No one even realizes until Alfred mentions it during dinner.
He has hyper fixated at least once on every single artistic medium you can imagine. His top three are oil paintings, mosaics, and pottery, but he mostly sticks to drawing in his free time.
He has taste tested all of his pets’ treats at one point for “research purposes.”
Giving friends their own nickname is one of the most intimate things Damian does to express his relationship with someone.
Once, he was having an argument with a sibling, and they said, “Oh yeah? Well at least Bruce wanted me!” Damian didn’t leave his room for exactly six days. He even stapled blackout curtains to his windows and the vents. Bruce chewed the shit out of whoever said it and spent hours every day talking to Damian through the door to convince him that, yes, Bruce wants him and couldn’t ever think of a family without him. Damian didn’t come out, however, until he heard Bruce crying while begging him to eat. Damian slept in Bruce’s bed that night and the following week.
When he turns 15, he gets really obsessed with Måneskin.
He’s exactly the kind of Art Hoe that is completely loyal to his favorite brand of art supplies and wouldn’t touch other brands with a 10ft pole.
He has weirdly thin fingers. Like creepily thin, especially as he grows older. Someone commented on them once, and Damian proceeded to wear gloves nonstop for a week.
There are exactly four (4) people who are allowed to touch him without permission first. Dick, Jon, Bruce, and Talia in that order.
His eyes are actually naturally blue. The reason they are green is because of the Lazarus Pit. It’s always the Lazarus Pit. (They barely glow in the dark too, but you need to really pay attention to notice.)
He can wiggle his ears. The only people to ever witness it are Cass and Duke. They’ve been sworn to secrecy.
Whenever one of his many pets sleeps in his bed, he tries to stay as still as possible without touching them so they don’t get annoyed and leave, but they always worm their way into his arms.
As he grows, his family is surprised to learn that he isn’t building the same muscle as his dad. Instead, he’s lean like his mother due to an extremely fast metabolism. He eats a lot to maintain proper health. (His cheeks are still puffy when he sleeps, though. And when he smiles.)
Dick is his emergency contact for school, partially because Dick isn’t as busy, partially due to that time Bruce “died,” but mostly because Damian is terrified of disappointing Bruce if he ever gets in trouble. Thankfully, Dick is convincing Damian otherwise.
His favorite ever birthday gift comes from Tim. It’s a pottery studio he spent months building on their property in secret with several pottery wheels and a kiln.
His hands have always had a sort of surgical accuracy to them due to his stealth training, but it never came to the forefront of everyone’s mind until one particular mission when Tim got shot, and they needed to get the bullet out as quickly as possible. Despite being bigger than most of his family members by now, and Tim refusing to stay still the whole time, Damian was the only one capable of taking the bullet out. While riding in the Batmobile. Going 80 mph. Completely painlessly. Damian is immediately given the de facto role of Combat Medic.
Jon likes to send Good morning texts to Damian. At first, he didn’t know about the “only responds if it’s an emergency” thing, though, so he decided to stop after a few weeks of Damian never replying. Within an hour of not getting the usual text, Damian was at Jon’s house in full Robin gear to make sure he was okay.
He and Steph like to paint each other’s nails when one of them is stressed. After Damian comes out as pansexual, Steph paints little pride flags on his fingers.
He only plays Minecraft on creative mode. He likes building farms and wildlife preserves.
At 16, he gets asked out by a pretty girl in school that Damian had a crush on last year, but he thinks it’s a joke because he can’t fathom anyone liking him so he turns her down.
As he grows, his looks become more androgynous, again eerily resembling his mother, but his voice drops low enough that it doesn’t cause much misgendering.
Then he starts thinking of his gender a bit more and wonders if he’s also a They.
He likes to paint all over the soles of his shoes whenever he gets a new pair. No one will ever really see it, of course, and it eventually wears off the more he walks, but he knows it’s there.
It’s a nice day in the park. He’s doing homework on a picnic table while Titus and Ace run around, and he can’t stop thinking about his future.
Yesterday, there was a school assembly about choosing a career path. Alfred slid him an SAT prep book during breakfast. And his class was assigned one of those “Which career path is best for you?” quizzes.
He gets Veterinarian.
It takes a full five minutes as Damian stares at the results, thinking about the crazy, out-of-this-world idea of not being a vigilante or assassin his entire life, what it would be like if he just turned his back on the future which was so carefully laid out in front of him since birth, before it clicks into place.
Damian doesn’t want to be Batman.
He doesn’t want to lead the LoA either.
Two years later, Damian enrolls in Gotham University and majors in Wildlife Biology on the Pre-Vet track with a minor in Studio Arts. He gets a dorm room, works in the pottery studio, and volunteers at the local animal shelter.
He is content.
Does some of this stray from canon? Yes. However, I do not give a rat’s ass. Thank you, and goodnight.
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Note
Can you write a one shot with Daddy Pascal? They have an age gap of 20 years and she’s super nervous to go public with him cause she’s afraid that his fans won’t like her? And he comfort her
A/n: hell yes I can, and hopefully you'll like this. Also this gif is freaking hot.
Pairing: Pedro Daddy Pascal x reader
second part || Masterlist
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"It's not that easy."
"It is." Pedro stood closer to you. "I just want to be able to call you mine in public."
You sighed, gnawing on the peeling skin of your lips, something you do when nervous. "I.. I can't."
"What?"
"I can't, I'm sorry.. I just.. I can't. Not now."
Pedro couldn't believe his ears. Both of you have been together for two years, and this has been the one thing Pedro wanted. But he kept it a secret for you, because of the age gap, because he knew you weren't ready.
But now after two years.. you're still not ready.. so what now?
---
That conversation was a week ago. Pedro got pretty upset after that, wouldn't really call you when he's on break, wouldn't tell you if he's coming home, wouldn't call you pet names -- but you understood. Pedro was justifiably upset, but you didn't think it was a good idea to go public at the moment. And it's all because of-
Pedro shut the door with a soft thud and was surprised to see you lying on the couch on your phone.
"Hey. You're still awake?" He asked, though you're obviously still are.
"Yeah, I was just browsing social media." You gave him a little smile.
Pedro nodded and proceeded to go to your shared room. The smell of alcohol and cigarettes did not go unnoticed by you, and the way he was walking tells you he was probably from a nightclub.
It's not like you two had to report your location or schedule at all times, but usually going to a nightclub is something you tell your partner.
You shook your head, not wanting to overthink it, but your thoughts kept coming back to it, and so you followed him to the bedroom and asked him.
"Were you out clubbing?"
Pedro sighed and undressed, ready to go shower. "Yeah, it was a last minute thing with some coworkers. Sorry I forgot to tell you."
"'S okay." You offered another small smile.
Ignored. Pedro walked past you to the bathroom.
As he was showering, you wondered how you should talk to Pedro about going public. It's not like you didn't want to, but have you seen the amount of fans Pedro has?
The amount of people that call him daddy, that make edits of his movies, his interviews? The amount of people who love him?
And if they find out that he's dating someone who's about 20 years younger than he is, what would happen to him? Would he be accused of grooming? Would his fans understand?
You didn't realize how long you've been standing at the same spot until Pedro gently touched your back after his shower.
"Cariño, are you feeling okay?"
Cariño.
You looked at him and exhaled. "Can we talk?"
Pedro had a feeling he knew what you wanted to say. He sighed and sat on the bed, with only his damp towel hugging his waist.
"So, have you decided I'm too old for you?"
You frowned, "what?"
"Let me guess, it's been fun but you want to find someone who's closer to your age? Or is it because you realized this lifestyle isn't for you?"
You felt a little hurt. Did Pedro really think you're going to break up with him because of this? "Pedro, I'm not breaking up with you."
"Then what is it? I've been holding back mentioning your name during interviews when they ask me if I have someone I love, and yes, I do - It's you! I love you, so so much. I want to be able to bring you to places, show you off - I know it's probably a lot to ask, but cariño... I.." he sighed, unable to finish his sentence.
He was obviously frustrated, and this was mostly the aftermath of the alcohol talking. You sat next to him and held his hand.
"I'm scared." You admitted.
"Cariño-"
"Do you know how many videos of you are out there? Ones that your fans make, some even edit them from interviews from years ago. Or how many fanfictions there are of you? Or just the amount of fans you have that worship you day and night?"
You looked at him, worry in your eyes. "They all love you and look up to you so much, and so do I. I don't want to.. to ruin your life because we're going public. We have a huge age gap between us, that doesn't normally sit well with people."
"I also want to show everyone you're mine.. you know how ugly jealous I get when I see some of your costars flirting with you on the red carpet." You placed a hand on his cheek.
Pedro chuckled, leaning into your touch. "I guess I hadn't thought about that part.."
He pulled you closer to sit on his lap, his arms around your waist, your hands on his shoulders. "But I still want to. If they're really my fans, they'll understand. And yes, our age gap is.. pretty big, but I've never loved anyone as much as I love you."
"You are.. mi amor, mi vida. And I'd do anything to be with you." He kissed you softly.
You ran your hands through his hair, and they rested on his neck. "Okay."
"Okay?" You could hear the excitement in his voice.
"Okay." You nodded, reassuring him.
He gave you the biggest grin he had as he hugged you and pulled you both to lay down on the bed, laughing while he was at it.
"Then it's decided. You're coming to the next red carpet with me. As mine."
----
A/n: my crush on this man is starting to feel dangerous.
second part
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elfven-blog · 7 months
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Better than the mutt
Summary: Your bunny appears to be jealous. Bunny!Leon x f!reader CW: MDNI, 18+ only, bunny!leon, fingers, p in v, reader is called slut, public sex. Word count: 1.9K
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The weather had gotten warmer lately, and it had you wearing less and less clothing. Or at least as little amount of clothing as you could get away with. Not that your bunny ever minded. Not as his hands wandered and his mouth followed the path his tongue left, which while you enjoyed the attention he lathered onto you, it could be awfully distracting while you were doing literally anything.
But you never told him to stop, which is definitely what led you to this situation. You had been trying to wash the dishes from the previous night, but Leon had other ideas as he forced you to bend over. Hand holding you against the sink as he pushed your skirt up and roughly tore your tights all so he could play with your clit. His rough fingers circling at the bud as he licked at your neck, biting small marks into the already decorated skin wherever he could.
Your slick coated the panties he’d pulled to the side so that while his fingers played with your clit, his thumb pressed into your dripping hole again and again. Your legs shaking as your arms struggled to hold you up, body weight fully resting on the side as he continued to stretch you on his thumb. Your head lowering onto your arms as the pleasure builds in you before he’s pulling completely away from you. Body jerking forwards as his hand slaps down onto your ass with a loud ringing “better finish up the washing, sweet doe”.
This had been a pattern of his for the last few days, getting you as close to release as possible before leaving you a mess where you were. You prided yourself on knowledge of bunny behaviour, having spent ages researching before even adopting Leon so that when you got him, you wouldn’t accidentally offend him. You knew that with the preening and grooming you gave him; he viewed that as him being in charge…especially with how your relationship had developed recently. You knew that he had the penchant of stomping his feet when he was annoyed, and though he would never admit it, you had seen him flop in happiness at least once.
But this new behaviour was new territory, you figured maybe he just liked to edge you on, maybe he thought the sex was better after he’d teased you all day and then when he settled between your legs it was like heaven for him. It’s not like you would complain anyway, you liked the attention and the way it felt to have him tease you for so long before he couldn’t help himself.
You had no idea what was going through that bunny’s mind.
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With how hot it was, you had decided it was the perfect time to let Leon get some time outside. Often it was far too cold for him to spend too long out there, but now with the warmth of the sun you were able to take him out for longer and even spend some time with friends and Leon was able to get some social time with the other hybrids you knew too. Mainly you spent time with Jill, and the hybrid siblings you had both grown up with. Sometimes Chris, the rottweiler, was a little harsher on Leons ears than he should be, but his sister Claire always made him be more gentle with a quick tug of his own ears.
You smiled and shook your head as you watched that exact scenario play out, the Cocker Spaniel hybrid causing her brother to let out a loud whine while Leon rubbed at his ear. Deciding that he’d rather be out the way of the rambunctious siblings, he quickly made his way to the chair next to you. His head leaning on you shoulder as he watched the two argue with each other. Jill sighed shaking her head at the pair.
She turned to you with a sad smile, shrugging her shoulders “I suppose that’s the end of today, no way I can stay out with those two arguing” you shook your own head with a small laugh, shrugging Leons shoulder off lightly before standing to give Jill a hug.
“Don’t worry about it, we’ll have to meet up without the three another day” you sent her a small wink, ignoring as Leon huffed at the suggestion. You only looked at him with a raised eyebrow causing the rabbit hybrid to look away with a pout on his lips as you all said bye to each other. You didn’t notice how the blonde seemed to tense as Chris hugged you, almost pulling you off your feet to do so.
You and Leon started your own way home you could almost cut the tension with a knife. A frown had made it’s why onto your own face, pulling the corners of your lips down as you tried to figure out what had changed so quickly from this afternoon to now. Nothing had really happened, there was no argument between the both of you.
Leons eyes seemed to stay away from you as you walked, his hands in his pocket and his tail almost frozen while making your way home. That was until it was like the invisible force snapped, and he was pulling you into an alleyway, barely hidden from sight as he pushed you against the wall.
“Leon what are you-“ your question is cut off as his lips meld to yours, tongue licking into your mouth until your panting and spit drools down your chin. His hands push the skirt up again, fingers slowly tracing your panties before ripping them off and leaving you with nothing to cover. His hands move from under the skirt, roughly groping at your tits as his fingers pinch at your nipples until their hard and sore.
He pulls his head away, only to bite hard into your skin before his tongue sooths over the new mark. Your head is reeling with the sudden actions of your bunny “Did you like sweet doe? With that fucking dog touching you? Liked the way he tried to show of his strength? Like any mutt could match a buck’s stamina”
And suddenly it made sense. Your bunny was jealous. A gasp left your mouth, lips parting as he continued to litter you in purples and reds, his hand travelling down again to feather against your pussy lips. A smirk on his lips that you could feel against the skin of your neck as “So wet, doe, so wet” his fingers ignored the needing clit, pushing into your soaked cunt and causing you to whine at the sudden feeling “No…no one can breed you like me”.
He worked another finger into your dripping pussy, making sure to work you open as his tongue licked into your mouth again, muffling the moans falling from your mouth. As your legs shook until your thighs were coated with slick, and you arched into Leon. And then he pulled away, just like earlier. You almost had tears in your eyes.
“Shhh shhh, s’okay. Gonna give my doe what she deserves, remind her and everyone who she belongs too” His words had you biting your lips, hands moving to fumble with his own belt and jeans. Not wanting to wait a moment longer. Leon could almost laugh as he watched his precious doe before deciding to help you out and pulling his jeans and underwear down. His cock already hard and leaking.
Your own tongue darting out to wet your lips as your fingers touched the hot skin, leons head falling back from the contact and his ears twitching in time with his cock. His hands wrapped around your wrist so he could pull your hand away with a tut. “nu uh, no time pretty girl, gotta feel you around me”. Those words could be the death of you.
His hand moved to lift one of your legs around his waist, his other hand wrapping around himself. The fat head slapped against your neglected tip in a way that had you rolling your hips forward. As Leon felt you move forwards he couldn’t help but sink into that warmth, his body caging you against the brick wall as the both of you moaned. His cock stretching you out as he sank until balls deep, your pussy stretched around him. You stayed like that for a moment until Leon pressed a kiss to your cheek and then his hips moved backwards, only his tip left inside you. Your arms made their way around his back to try and pull him into you again, which he happily obliged with. His hips rutting forwards again and again as he fucked you against the wall.
Your mouth open against his shirt, soaking it in your spit as you moaned against his chest. His hand pushing your head further into the fabric to smother the noises as a way of trying to hide what you were doing. But with he pace he set, the sound of skin slapping and your pussy trying to suck his cock in more filled the space anyway.
Leons eyes darted around the area, almost lighting up as he whispered into your ear “Anyone could walk down here or look out a window” each word was accompanied by a harsh thrust of his hips “See how much of a slut you are” his hand travelled under your skirt, circling at your clit, and your leg tightened its grip on his waist.
His pace speeds up as he buries himself deeper inside you, clearly excited at the idea of someone seeing the both of you like this. With slick dripping down to the concrete below you, and your mind empty as his cock knocked up against your cervix. Leon groaned as he felt your pussy spasm around him, legs shaking and hands digging into his back.
His fingers rub and pinch at your clit while his cock bullies into you, your moans getting louder until he pulls your head back so he can harshly kiss you. Tongue fucking into your mouth at the same pace his cock fucks into your pulsing hole. When he pulls away a little, his eyes are almost black as he watched your eyes cloud with lust. And then he spits into your mouth which you quickly swallow before sticking your tongue out for more.
Leon is happy to deliver, his thrusts have your back pushing against the wall in a painful way but it only adds to the pleasure you feel as your bunny abuses your cunt. “Such a whore like this, letting me fuck ‘er in public” his words have you whining with a pout before he shushes you, his fingers pinching a bit harshly at your clit as your back arches.
Your pussy clamps onto his cock, your back slumping against the wall as your hold loosens and your orgasm has your head spinning. Leons own head falling back at the feeling as his mouth opens with a load grunt. His hips don’t stop as he keeps rutting into you, but it doesn’t take long till his entire weight is on you and you feel his cock twitch as hot thick ropes of cum flood your pussy. And you both hiss as his cock drags along your walls until he’s pulling out.
The sound of your laboured breaths fill the alley, and Leon gently massages at your sides and thighs as you try to catch your breaths. His hand dips down below your skirt again, gathering the mix of your slick and his cum on his fingers before pushing it into your mouth to clean. “Always look so pretty cleaning my fingers like that.”
And he promises you a warm bath and a nap when you get home.
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virgamsysxvolumes · 2 months
Text
Messy Misunderstandings
Narrative for this post (here)
[Tags/TW: Trans!Danny, implied SA(false), implied grooming(platonic), de-aged Danielle, clone-twin Dan, ghost pregnancy egg, destabilized clones, neglectful but well meaning Fenton Parents, BAMF Jazz, platonic yandere Vlad, reluctant platonic yandere Dan, redemption arc Vlad, redemption arc Dan, emotional manipulation, misunderstandings, eavesdropping, OCs for plot reasons, ghost bonding through violence, Parentification of both Jazz and Danny]
Daniel Fenton would be the first to admit that his life was completely nuts and totally chaotic. So he wasn't really surprised to find that once his life felt at least somewhat settled and he had gotten into a bit of a routine that another wrench was thrown into his plans. It was a total bummer still!
"What do you mean I have to go to college? That doesn't even make any sense. I have no scholarships, I barely graduated! Are you seriously kicking me out?!" Danny asked baffled.
"Oh honey, we're not kicking you out. We're just sending you to live with you're sister in Gotham!" Maddie assured him gently.
"Don't worry Dann-o! Vladdy promised to pay for your college and Jazz's!" Jack told him cheerfully. "Wasn't that great of him? Good ol' Vladdy."
"Mom?!" Danny turned back to Maddie baffled and alarmed.
"It's alright Sweetie, Vlad's been doing really well in therapy! Even your mirror Dan has been going through anger therapy. Once he graduates from the program he'll be going to college too." Maddie told him. "That way you can all be together."
"What about Dani? I can't just leave her, she needs me!" Danny protested anxiously glancing to the living room where Dani was playing with her blocks on the playmat.
"Don't worry Danny, Vlad's even paying for an apartment so that Jazz, Dan, little Dani, and you can all live together!" Jack spoke up quickly.
"We know she's still dependent on your ectoplasm honey, we wouldn't separate you." Maddie said cheerfully.
"How am I even supposed to go I didn't get accepted anywhere!" Danny tried one more time.
"Oh Sweetie don't worry about that. Vlad and I pulled some strings and sent an application for you to Jazz's school. Gotham University, they have excellent engineering and astronomy programs available. Once you finish your core courses you can sign up for one of those. Hopefully by the time the GIW is disbanded you'll be allowed to be an astronaut just like you wanted." Maddie explained warmly.
Danny sat speechless for a bit, just processing everything he'd just been told. They were just so certain and dead set about it. How would he even say no? Had they been planning this since he started senior year?! How had he not noticed that they were doing these things? They seemed as focused on their ecto-studies as they always had!
"There has to be a catch! Vlad doesn't usually do these things for nothing, what did he want?" Danny asked suspiciously.
"Well..." Maddie hummed hesitantly.
"You just have to go to a party!" Jack told him joyously. "I know you're not too fond of parties, but there's some big charity ball thing going on in Gotham that Vlad and Dan are going to so they can schmooze and rub elbows with the other rich folk."
"Ugh, really? I already told him ages ago I don't want to go to his rich people parties." Danny complained shoulders slumping.
"Now Danny, I know these kinds of things are frustrating and you just wanted to go straight into working but we think this will be much better for you. Just go to the party and be polite. Do it for Dani, you want to provide a safe and stable future for her don't you?" Maddie coaxed reasonably.
"Of course I do." Danny sighed heavily.
"We just want what's best for you Danny. Vlad and us will keep supporting you all through college and even until you find a nice stable job. Anything you need you just call us okay?" Jack told him kindly. "We love you both with all our hearts and we just want you to succeed. We weren't supportive enough before but we've got your back son."
"That's right. We love you Danny, we know you can do this, you just need to believe in yourself too." Maddie said. Danny groaned and ruffled his own hair harshly before sighing loudly.
"Fine, fine. I'll go to the stupid party and go to college. You could have talked to me before this though! Now I have to tell Tuck, Sam, and Val there's a change of plan." Danny said to them.
"Great! Oh, thank you sweetheart." Maddie got up and kissed Danny's forehead gently.
"Great talk Dann-o! I knew you'd come around." Jack praised slapping the back of Danny's shoulder jovially.
{Party Daze}
Danny was not too thrilled about the turn of events, tugging uncomfortably at the suit he'd been shoved into. Dani was looking very adorable in her frilly red dress though; totally worth the tantrum she threw about it. He had managed to calm her down at least and they had no real issues when leaving the hotel and meeting Jazz at the party. Though the limousine ride with Dan and Vlad had been a little awkward with how annoyed Danny still was with the man and Dan's whole Dan thing.
The party was boring and completely forgetful right up until Danny left Dani with Dan while he slipped away to the bathroom for a minute. Of course Dan would let her just wander off. Dani was very articulate and clever for a three year old and ghosts were very much a Survival by Fire type of species, sure Dani was a clone that used to be at least twelve but she was three now both physically and mentally and shouldn't be alone. Danny might have kidney punched Dan for the oversight, it didn't matter because Danny left quickly to scour the massive ballroom for his wayward daughter. Luckily he found he fairly quickly following his instincts and almost purred with relief as he scooped her up.
“Dani! Gosh don't scare me like that! I thought I was going to die of fear! I told you not to leave Dan's side, Squirmy-Pants!” Danny scolded gently, looking her over for injuries or upset of any kind.
“Uncle Dan said it was fine!” Dani protested squirming in her dad's hold.
“Yeah well, Uncle Dan also thinks arson is fine too. We don't listen to Dan for decision making.” Danny scoffed.
“Uh, hello young man, is this your little sister?” The voice drew Danny's attention away causing him to realize that Dani had apparently been speaking to Brucie Wayne of all people.
“No silly! That's my daddy!” Dani giggled, causing Danny to smile again.
“Oh, my mistake. You just look about my son Tim's age.” Brucie replied, he seemed cheerful if a little off somehow.
“Ha! It's fine, I get that a lot. I'll hit my growth spurt soon so hopefully I won't keep looking so small.” Danny assured him.
Which wasn't completely a lie; most people in Amity Park knew that Dani was his daughter but ever since arriving in Gotham most had mistaken Danny for Dani's older brother. He didn't mind, it was an easy mistake to make.
“You're gonna be small like Granny.” Dani cut in with a grin.
“Don't jinx me like that, you goblin. How about you be as small as Granny instead?” Danny bargained.
“No way! I'll be tall like Auntie Jazz.” Dani told him stubbornly.
“Tough luck munchkin but you're a pocket mirror. If I end up short then you will too, so start praying to The Old Ones.” Danny teased her.
“Nooooo! I wanna be tall!! Stop being so small!” Dani ordered in dismay.
“Sure, let me get right on that.” Danny snorted, grinning at his little girl. 
“I'm sure you'll both hit that growth spurt soon.” Brucie kindly offered, his expression cheerful.
“Yes! You gotta eat broccoli! Auntie Jazz said broccoli makes you tall!” Dani told her dad sternly.
“I guess we're eating broccoli for the next week.” Danny lamented.
“There you are Danny,” Jazz greeted slipping to Danny's side and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. She offered Brucie a warm smile. “Hello Mr. Wayne, I see you've met my little brother and niece.”
“Ms. Fenton! I didn't know you had a little brother.” Brucie said happily.
“Well technically I have two; twins. Dan and Danny.” Jazz explained, she leaned close to Danny's ear and spoke softly so that Brucie wouldn't overhear. “The shrimp puff are almost gone, best run over and snag some before Mrs. Abernathy gets them all.”
“Sorry Mr. Wayne but I should get Dani something to eat. See ya around.” Danny slipped away quickly with Jazz's distraction.
“Are they really all named Danny?” Brucie asked, baffled.
“It's a bit of a family name now. Danior, Daniel, and Danielle by order of age.” Jazz explained.
Danny moved quickly, slipping away from the conversation with Dani, he'd been craving those shrimp puffs! They better not be gone!
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Picrew for Dani (here) Picrew for Dan, Danny, Jazz (here)
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Masterpost (here)
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messiahzzz · 6 months
Text
i have been thinking a lot about mystra’s relationship with gale, how reducing her to “his ex” really is an understatement. she was and still is so much more than that. moreover, using the term “ex-girlfriend” in relation to her plainly feels wrong and diminishes the influence she has over him, as well as the role she played in his life since his childhood (and it also trivializes the abuse he suffered through her).
there are several instances where gale gets defensive when his companions mention or ask him abt mystra. he claims that their relationship was no less real even though most of their interactions were incorporeal.
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we have already established that gale is an unreliable narrator in this particular case, still not having fully come to terms with the fact that he was groomed, manipulated and abused. he ping-pongs between bouts of realization (even in his romance), gaining clarity that he was merely used and eventually discarded and that mystra never truly cared for him, back to making light of his situation, idealizing her once again. realizing the extent of his trauma, that he is indeed a victim in this scenario, unlearning what he has been made to believe from a young age is a slow and painful journey. he is in the process of healing, but it takes time. time he deserves just like anyone else.
which makes me wonder what their relationship really looked like, once the lines between teacher, muse, and lover began to blur. i also feel like one of the reasons why part of the fandom still struggles to identify mystra as his abuser, is because she is a white woman who initially presents herself in a soft-spoken, benevolent manner… and well, the fact that gale himself is ambitious to a fault and a lil insane about the promise of power. he also briefly mentions "crossing mystra’s boundaries” when he confides in tav and tells them about his folly. (“i am, after all, the villain in this story.”) which led to a looooot of misinterpretations.
leaving the overall lore and mystra’s treatment of her other chosen aside — what we can discern from her interactions with gale in-game, is that mystra is civil as long as she remains in control and gale follows her demands, but as soon as there’s even a slight mention of challenging her power or defying her rule, she rather quickly changes her tone.
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there is also one particular exchange between them that just won’t leave my head:
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“you were many things to me, but never a threat. and never a savior."
even if we choose to blatantly ignore the fact that mystra is a deity, his goddess - there is no possible way that their relationship ever could have been equal by any mortal standards. the power imbalance that comes with her being his teacher and a symbol of his admiration, plus the sheer control she holds over him and his powers are simply too great. don’t even let me get started on how it is a common tactic of abusers to isolate their victims from any outside influences so they can exert full control over them. and how up to meeting tav and their merry band of misfits, every single soul he was close to was inevitably tied to mystra in one way or another. he briefly mentions his colleagues and then there’s elminster, also mystra’s chosen and former lover, and tara, who is a fine wizard in her own right. he spend so many years in service of her, dedicating his life to her, that now there is no one left he can truly call a friend. most of his little anecdotes and stories he tells are restricted to his childhood and university days, everything else was mystra.
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evidently, ordering gale to detonate the orb is the most efficient course of action in her eyes. he is just as expendable as any other mortal, after all. maybe once significantly more useful given his status and the extent of his powers, but she doesn’t feel sorrow nor remorse for ordering him to end his life. his death is simply the most convenient means to an end.
another thing i would also like to briefly touch upon is the trigger/detonator itself. a dagger to the heart. it could have been literally anything else, a simple incantation. it is well within mystra’s power to stabilize the orb and also to remove it from his body entirely. but no, what she requires of gale is to stab himself. one might argue that it was simply a cinematic choice meant for a more dramatic effect, but it really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. especially considering the fact that she is commonly known and referred to as a jealous goddess. it almost makes it seem like yet another form of punishment or mere pettiness. after his long period of isolation, gale is now surrounded by fellow humans. people he cares about, even perhaps people he might eventually consider good friends — which is enough of a reason for him to not want to die, to keep going and try to find another way, rather than to blindly follow mystra’s bidding. now there’s a group of people who support him and are genuinely invested in him staying alive. hmmm...
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hor3nee · 2 months
Text
• Union •
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Gojo and his arranged marriage with Reader.
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CW/TW: Fem! Reader, Arranged marriage, BREIF Suggestive stuff, Corny Gojo, Reader & Gojo ages implied to be very young (18-23), Gojo typical flirting, SFW (Lmk if I should add anything else!)
Characters: Gojo x Reader
AN: Gojo is bitchless in this fic bc I say so. Pt 2 here.
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Weddings aren't supposed to be this boring. In fairness, boring is better than a bad wedding. Could have a roadhouse-type fight between in-laws, an ex breaking through the doors proclaiming their undying love or a runaway bride. Or a runaway groom. Maybe he should've been a runaway groom? Internally, Gojo's sure it'd be more exciting than sitting in a room full of family and 'friends' who are discussing his marriage more than he's even caring to think of it.
"Congratulations to The Strongest and his bride." Another blanked-out random voice says giving polite blessings to him and the lady dressed in bridal wear beside him, you.
Satoru Gojo, the strongest, they call him, well he calls himself, and yes, he is, he without a doubt is the strongest. Born with the Six Eyes technique after ages of the Gojo clan, while relevant in the Jujutsu world, unable to have a child with such technique for so long, Gojo was instantly hailed heir, no questions asked.
And with all of that, comes responsibilities, that, as immature as the man acts, he does take care of. Responsibilities include many things other than killing curses though, responsibilities include managing the clan, doing his part in Jujutsu society, mentoring the students and keeping peace with the other clans. Just to list the few, less action-based responsibilities. Marriage is an obvious one as well.
And you're the bride.
He knew it was coming. It wasn't specifically because he was the strongest he was gonna be strung into a marriage as quickly as possible, though that played a role in it. He saw it with his parents, relatives, and the other clans, Zenin especially who practiced it most rigidly perhaps, marriage was a necessary part of holding a certain status, it's simply expected. Arranged are ideal.
It's not that he was forced into it either, everyone knows this is Satoru Gojo, he does whatever he wants. He gets whatever he wants, he's spoiled, both by the hands of Jujutsu society that almost worships him for his abilities and his own self, the ego he holds very proudly and very loudly that he shamelessly keeps up. If he wants something, he takes it, if he doesn't, he'll leave. He holds that sort of irrefutable power.
So he's okay with this, with marriage. With an arranged marriage, to you, whatever his reasons are that much is clear.
"You gonna eat that?" He's not asking really, he's already got his freakishly long arm drawled out on the table grabbing the plate out of yours. Fingers wriggling comically and he doesn't even make eye contact, looking at the slice of cake with a deeper passion than he bothered to look at you with. Not that you're expecting it, but.. you are the bride, he is on board.
"..Uh guess not." Is all you can reply, slightly awkwardly as he snatches the slice and gobbles it, humming like an overgrown toddler. Was he feeling as awkward too? He didn't look it, he looked fine, bored out of his over-active mind but not mad or anything. Much less mad at you, nor nervous. You're sat close, right by his side, being the main events the two of you of course, Gojo more so because he's the main event in everything in his life.
"This shit's good." He's moaning now, at cake. Almost makes you cringe but with that huge grin of overabundant confidence he has, he somehow makes it seem less cringe.
"Wedding cake's always good-" He gulps down another piece as he speaks. "Best part of any wedding."
Was that?.. Was that an insult? Felt like it, you're sat there all prettied up prim and proper to marry him, and you know he accepted this marriage and he's calling the cake the best part of the wedding? No, you can't even blame him. If anything you probably agree, save for the overly expensive gifts of cold hard cash the other clans and guests were leaving those were also good parts. Because this is, arranged.
You two, are, for the most part, strangers to each other. Together yes, married actually since you and him signed the legal documents no less than 10 minutes earlier into the wedding.
Still, it's awkward.
Soon the cake is gone, mostly by Gojo's abyss of a stomach, and the guests leave. Caterers clean up and family members give some last tidings before leaving. As well as you, and Gojo.
"So, do you think I'm hot?" He perks, sprawled on the couch with his formal wear lazily pulled off scattering around the floor from when he took it off the instant he was inside the residence. His residence, of course. A grin showing no signs of the tense awkwardness one would expect a young man freshly married to a wife he's only married to through arrangements would be. But no, he's Satoru Gojo, if there's one thing he has, it's an overwhelming amount of self-assurance.
"Do I- Do I think you're hot?" You reply, standing a bit awkwardly in front of him, still trying to process the fact you're sleeping here tonight, no for the rest of your life you'll be sleeping in this house. Home, you should call it, it is your home now. Might take time to properly digest that but it is.
"Yeah, am I hot?" The question is, by his expression, obviously self-explained. He IS attractive, with pretty big blue eyes, tall and decently built, and gorgeous lips too, he knows it, he knows he's hot. Gojo just likes to tease, he's a little shit. 
"I mean, am I attractive to YOU?" He asks again, putting more emphasis. For all the slightly passive-aggressive things he's said the evening and immature behaviour, the question is poised genuinely. He's smirking, humming almost as he asks but the way he looks at you it's also clear that he is asking you, seriously.
His gaze never breaks with yours, and though you only take a second to respond, it feels like an hour with the heavy weight of the situation in your brain and the almost stinging feeling of his wide baby blue bright eyes piercing through yours waiting for your response.
"You... Yes, you are attractive." He is, he knows that already though and that wasn't what he was asking. But you know that wasn't what he asking. His expression doesn't falter though, but there's an obvious disappointment, boredom more specifically in it at your lack of response. You're talking but the words are white paper plain, even you can taste it on your tongue, how chaste you sound. 
"I think you're attractive, too." His reply is more genuine than yours as well, maybe not genuine but a lot more emotion in it. Maybe he's just more confident, which he is no doubt. 
"Thanks-"
"Like, seriously." He whistles, christ that's jarring. "seriously hot." 
He's up off the couch before you can give another disingenuous 'thanks' and standing right in front of you, eyeing you down with little to no attempt to act ceremoniously, which he was showing at least the faintest ounce of at the wedding earlier. That gawky tension of whatever the hell the two of you have going on is back, but not for Gojo. He doesn't even have a semblance of humility in him to feel that tension that's burning inside of you right now.
"We're supposed to like each other, you know." He adds, keeping his eyes trained on your body shamelessly.
It feels like his hands are folded around you but they aren't, they're hanging loosely by his side all dangly as his limbs are, the man is a giant. It's more a feeling, suffocating, as though you've been cornered when you aren't. It's the middle of a decently spaced living room and the front door is unlocked. And Gojo, as devious as his smirk is, would never hold you by the binds of a pressured marriage. If anything, you were almost under the assumption he didn't care for you, or this marriage.
"I guess, yeah." You start. "You like me then?" You finish, a bit bolder now, he's seamlessly talking and you are married now, till death do you part as they say. Might as well match his energy.
"You bet I do, sweetheart." Petnames? Okay maybe too much, he might need to dial it down. But Gojo is Gojo, the strongest, an eccentric man. He doesn't 'dial it down' for anything, or anyone. You're his wife, and he likes what he sees. Smiling as he speaks, genuine and concise in his words, he means what he says. As confusing as this situation is, he is young, he's accepted it, and not begrudgingly at all. "I got me a pretty wife- you, you're my wife, so I like you." 
"Thanks Gojo." Ah, there it is, not disingenuous. Though minimal he picks up on it, you also mean it. Maybe not in the way he means it, maybe more than he means it, who knows, not him. Confident as he says he is with the ladies, he's never actually been with one before, this whole relationship shtick, marriage shtick, is new.
Marriage is built off of love, his elders told him, he saw in shitty rom-coms and pop songs blasting the radio. He'd like that, love, as much immaturity and disregard he’s shown at the wedding, the engagement, the arrangements when he first heard they'd picked a partner for him, it has appeal. And he wants it, and this woman, you, you're going to be the one to give it to him, love. Not today, not tonight. Maybe not in a month or a year, but it'll grow, and fester over time. He's sure, as he is in everything, this marriage will last.
"I'm tired as hell from all that wedding crap," Gojo says, his feet ever so minimally backing off so he isn't smothering you with his presence and wide sapphire-like eyes boring into your understandably unsure eyes. "There's a guest room, I'll sleep there and you can take the main bedroom-"
"I can sleep with you." You cut him off.
"In the guest bedroom??" He questions with a blink, okay so he's a bit stupid. That's okay though.
"No, with you, in our bedroom." You correct him, feeling more assured now, eased by Gojo's, thankfully.
"Right." The cheeky grin is back. Actually, it isn't very annoying anymore, it's kinda attractive. He is attractive that much is sure, but he's starting to be attractive to you. "Let's go sleep in OUR bed then, how's that sound?" 
"Sounds good."
It's oddly domestic, the walk to the bedroom he previously had all to himself, showing you the way, and showing you the bed you're gonna be sleeping in for the rest of your days. The way his slender fingers, which you were almost sure would poke out your eyes, gracefully helped you dissemble the layers of jewelry and fabrics you were dolled up in. His touch was feather-light, in stark contrast to his smug demeanour, making it clear, the boy has never undressed a lady.
Nothing goes further than that though, he doesn't push for anything more, and considering how new and confusing everything still is, you don't either. Instead choosing to lay back, and shut your eyes beside Gojo, letting exhaustion overtake you both and just sleep for the night.
Sleep beside your husband.
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she-is-ovarit · 5 months
Text
The man several years older than you who calls you "more mature than your own age" is grooming you. The man who says you are "special" or "unique" is grooming you. The man who calls you an "old soul" is grooming you.
These are grooming phrases.
The man several years older than you who keeps circling back to "Gosh, I can't believe you're real! But are you sure you want this? I'm so much older than you!" when you're cuddling or making out is grooming you. He is asking you that question during intimate moments as a way to unconsciously manipulate you into denial and perhaps get you to reassure whatever guilt he has, if he has any. Asking this while showering you with affection is an attempt to bait and coerce you into saying yes. Whether done unconsciously or consciously, he is fulfilling an emotional need you have for love or protection while at the same time getting you to say out loud to yourself and to him that you want this in order to work your brain into ignoring any bad gut feeling or doubt you have, then or in the future.
That is grooming behavior.
I understand that you might not want this to be true, and that you feel pulled to him. I understand it might feel more parental or brotherly than it does sexual or romantic. But this is how grooming works in many, many cases. The attachment or relationship fulfills a psychological need or wound you had from a parent or a sibling. His behaviors might very well be fatherly or brotherly, and then over time those little interactions blur into something else that you can't quite make sense of but that you like.
That magnetic, psychological pull you feel is not a sign of healthy attachment or a healthy relationship. You can be groomed as a child, you can be groomed as a teen, you can be groomed as a 20 year old.
And, yes, this goes for lesbians, bisexuals, gay men too. I speak with heterosexual situations in mind because there is a depressing, astounding pattern of heterosexual men grooming women and girls younger than them. But I have encountered plenty of gay men and lesbians in horrible codependent relationships that they feel simultaneously both trapped in and glued to.
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Hello! I love your works but could you do one with Angel dust, Stolas, Stella, and Loona with an s/o that is allergic to their fur/feathers? Thank you!
With an S/O that's allergic to their fur/feathers
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Angel Dust
The first sneeze was a fluke.
You were curled up in a hotel room, your first night sleeping in the same bed, the spider having you nuzzled into his fuzzy chest, a rapidly growing favourite spot for you.
Youd be holding him close, drifting off as you were cuddled by the fuzzy spider.
Youd both be drifting off, curled up together before you suddenly jerked back, sneezing into your arm.
Youd share a chuckle, before nuzzling back in together, the both of you drifting off to sleep.
The next would be in the morning. Waking up, you'd find your nose a little runny, nothing too crazy. It's not like you've never had a runny nose in the morning.
And so, getting up you start sneezing.
Again and again. And again.
Eventually you'd get in the shower, and after a heavy scrub and plenty of hot water, you were feeling much better.
Angel would shower next, the spider scrubbing himself down, the two of you talking as he dried himself.
He wondered why you were sneezing so suddenly, the spider wondering if you were allergic to his perfume?
Youd hum along agreeing that it might be the cause, scratching your nose as you found a piece of pink hair on your shirt.
You pick it up, pulling it close, and after smelling it, sure enough, you sneezed.
Youd tell him he was right, the fur you'd found all made you sneeze. So, Angel not wanting to make you sick, would throw it out, not wanting his S/O to be allergic to him.
And now that he was all clean and fluffy after drying himself, he'd waltz up, hugging you close.
You were in his fuzzy chest for about a second before you sneezed, both of you freezing.
Then you sneezed again and again, you were right back to how you were in the morning.
And after a moment of sneezing the both of you would pause, the both of you snapping to the other, staring at each other.
You both stepped back, both desperately hoping you were wrong.
You stepped away from each other for several minutes, before, moving slowly towards the other, you'd walk over, hugging the man.
It took less then a minute before you were a sneezing, snot covered mess. The both of you running to the opposite sides of the room.
You realised what was happening, and as mush as you wanted to be close, youd realise what was happening and keep your distance.
Youd keep seceral feet from each other, communicating via text or the occasional call, both of you brainstorming what to do. It's not like you wanna break up or anything, you just gotta figure out how you can, ya know, actually be together.
It'd take a week or two, the both of you spending short periods of time together before you got too sick, before you both finally figured out what to do.
It'd be a historic quest to find the key. A fable for the ages. Truly SOMETHING THAT WOULD GO DOWN IN HISTORY AS THR MOST INCREDIBLE-
Shampoo...
After some research, you went out and bought several Anti-allergy shampoos.
And after Angel scrubbed down with each of them, t spider finishing hos grooming routine, he'd dry up, stepping out and walking over, you'd hug him close.
Youd sit with your face in his fluff for several minutes, and much to your mutual joy, not a single sneeze.
And so, after buying several dozen bottles of shampoo, the two of you picked up where you left off.
And yeah, Angel was extra careful in his grooming, brushing and trimming his hair regularly. But other then that, and using his new shampoo, life went on like normal.
And with everything back to normal, well, you and Angel got to live a happy, healthy, and incredibly horny.
Yes. You'd have sex. Like... a lot of sex.
Hell, you had a lot of time to make up for. The spider sure to make you feel more then loved with his effinate body.
Stolas
Your first reaction was completely unexpected. And terrified the Avian utterly.
Youd plucked a feather from chest accidentally as the two of you teased each ither one bight, the man snatching it out of your grasp before pinning you down, the man using the feather to tickle you in a playful manner, turing you into a giggleing mess.
After which you'd share a kiss before going about your day.
But the next day, upon waking up, you'd find your body incredibly itchy. And upon further investigation, you'd find huge rashes around every spot Stolas had used the feather to tickle you.
Now, you hadn't been allergic to him before, the both of you incredibly confused.
So, with a little research, you'd discover one could develop allergies. Even to something they've spent every day around.
And that reeeeaaallly, reeeeaaally sucked.
Cause well, put simply, Stolas was a very, VERY affectionate S/O, especially after the divorce and well, not being allowed to touch you was very taxing on his emotional state.
But lucky for the both of you, Stolas had something most demons lacked.
Shit tons of money.
And a good bit of magic.
And so, after several spells, and a good bit of cash spent, you were totally healed of your allergy. Not just that, you were completely immune and acclimatise to his feathers and body, unable to ever develop such a condition like that again. Totally used to his body.
And with that everything went back to normal, you and stolas living a happy, healthy and deeply loving relationship, the two of you sharing as much intimacy and loving affection as the owl could possibly push onto you.
Stella
You and Stella had a... how should I put it?
A hard as fuck, passionate relationship.
Sex was a regular occurrence between the two of you, the Avian finally releasing all her pent up aggressive passion upon you.
Not that you minded, mind you.
If anything, you encouraged her more depraved nature. Dropping the expectations of nobility when together, a form of outlet for the lady Goetia.
But one day after a particularly depraved love making session, in which you awoke in hives, sores and rashes, sneezing up a storm, Stella as a good S/O would, would take you to a hospital.
She'd have every test available run on you, all of which resulting in the conclusion that, well you were allergic to her.
Now initially, Stella would lose her shit, not believing it possible, but after you had yet another reaction to her, she'd have to stand down.
Now luckily, the doctor was able to calm her down, and since money was no object for Stella, she was happy to pay through the nose to make you well.
Which, thanks to the fancy ass magic and medical technology only afforded to nobility, you would be healed of your allergy, Stella sure to hold you close to make sure it was effective.
And sure enough, with you cured, Stella was sure to shower you with affection, the woman holding you close the entire time, utterly adoring you as she held you to her bust ever chance she had.
But well, as ravenous as Stella was, now that she had you back you'd find yourself in a rather intimate moment, Stella simply holding you close, the moment surprisingly loving as you'd just lay there, holding each other close as you, well... as you just loved each other.
The two of you feeling incredibly loving towards each other.
Loona
Now, your relationship with loona was, well not quite the most intimate and personal, but it was still quite loving.
Despite Blitzø' attempts.
The girl happily attaching to you, the two of you lovingly attached at the hip, only occasionally breaking that bond when you held a small disconnect.
Though most of this came from the short periods of insecurity or discontent, the two of you occasionally arguing, but quickly uniting, loving each other deeply despite the occasional ugly spat.
And it'd be one morning, the two of you curled up on bed, utterly content, that you'd first sneeze.
That'd only be the beginning.
You steadily becoming more and more allergic to Loonas furry self, but despite this, you did your best to stay close.
And while you were happy to ignore your steadily worsening condition, Loona wasn't. The girl feeling heavily guilty that you were obviously getting sick because of her.
Even if you adamantly denied it, too inove to acknowledge sure an illness.
And so, after weeks of research, she'd begin using a variety of shampoos, and conditioners, and while they would help, she's still a fuzzball, and well, shampoo can only do so much.
Youd both look into a variety of solutions, doing your best to look into the problem, but despite her hardest efforts, you'd end up just where you began.
Until a magical cure was discovered!
Anti-allergy meds.
A handful of pills and you were able to spend the night nuzzling up to your furry lover, the both of you able to spend the entire night together without you breaking into a sneezing, runny nosed fit.
And with those pills, you were truly free to be with each other, the two of you loving each other deeply, and finally able to express this physically, without issue of your light, if serious allergies.
Congrats everyone on the newest episode, I'm so fucking Excited!
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crrepiest · 4 months
Text
Yandere! Teacher
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
♡Yan! Teacher x GN reader♡
Pt. 1
Tw: age-gap, obsessive behavior, pronouns used: you
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Yandere! Teacher who stumbled his way into his classroom on the first day of school. With his shirt half buttoned and his hair barely groomed, he was not prepared in any capacity.
Yandere! Teacher who slept in this morning, hitting the snooze button more than once. letting today's big events merely slip his mind. Not even giving his career a full thought in 3 months.
Yandere! Teacher who is less than thrilled to start the cycle back up again. However, those brats he calls his students, unfortunately pay the bills.
Yandere! Teacher who now sits in his empty classroom, waiting for his new set of "eager" young minds for the year to funnel in.
Yandere! Teacher whose heart starts rapidly pounding when he sees you - whose cheeks start to burn the moment he spots your gleaming face standing in the threshold of his bleak classroom.
Yandere! Teacher who stares you down like a hawk -a predator- as you nervously choose a place to set your belongings.
Yandere! Teacher who notices you chose a seat relatively close to him. Bold. Responsible. Trying to make a good impression are we? Was this just a routine for all of your new classes, or were you trying to catch his attention specifically? In hopes it's the latter.
Yandere! Teacher who just became acutely aware of his appearance. If only he'd knew he'd meet you today, he would have put more thought and effort into his looks.
Yandere! Teacher Who has a new found motivation to come to school each day. To be prepared and look his best. All for you.
Yandere! Teacher who introduces himself to the class. Whose eyes linger on yours any chance he can get, watching as you nervously fidget with your pencil and swiftly look away each time.
“Adorable" he thinks to himself.
Yandere! Teacher who passes out a pre printed syllabus to each student.
Yandere! Teacher who makes sure that his hand grazes yours while doing so. The afflicted spot occupies his mind with a tingling sensation for the rest of class.
Yandere! Teacher who gets visibly disappointed when he hears the loud chime of the dismissal bell for lunch sounds off.
Yandere! Teacher who sits back down at his desk, watching as the students seemingly evacuate the room. You however, lingering just a while longer, gathering your belongings.
Yandere! Teacher who takes this as a sign that you want to be in his presence a little while longer.
Yandere! Teacher who decides to take this fleeting moment to ask you your name.
"Y/n". It pours out of your mouth as smooth as honey. The word reverberating in his mind repeatedly.
"Y/n" he repeats aloud, just above a whisper.
You throw your bag on your back and give him a gentle wave goodbye. "Bye Mr. Roth, see you tomorrow." You chimed
Yandere! Teacher whose heart beat starts to slow down slightly as he watches you leave his field of few.
Yandere! Teacher who sits alone now, empty seats surrounding him.
"Y/n..."
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I’m so sorry for this guys but
AITA for telling someone their horse was masturbating?
Basically does what it says on the tin. For those of you who don’t know horses can masturbate. It’s most common in male horses under the age of three who have not had their testicles removed and who are confined to a stall or small pen and get really bored. They typically grow out of the behaviour once they’re older or given more freedom. Some owners try to train them to stop it from happening but most just ignore it because it’s better than other boredom behaviours like cribbing and wind-sucking (both are SFW to Google btw).
Anyway, I’m a groom and stable hand, mid-twenties now but been working at my job since I was fifteen (part-time then, now full-time). The stable I work at boards horses and gives lessons but also offers training for young horses, so we get a lot of OTTB here – that is “off-the-track Thoroughbreds”, so ex-racing horses that people typically buy cheap and then retrain to be show jumpers or dressage horses or whatever. One such horse is Bert, who is the horse in question in this situation.
Bert has excellent bloodlines but he sucked as a racing horse so he was sold OTT. The man who bought him, I’ll just call him John, knows nothing about horses – he’s a total beginner in every way, has never ridden and pays other people (including me) to take care of Bert, but claims to be an expert in everything equine because Bert cost him so much money (I don’t know the actual amount but he’s in the section of the stable where the $20,000 Warmbloods are boarded so I’m assuming around that amount which is a lot yes but also not the most expensive horse we’ve had here).
Anyway the actual story – I’m at work cleaning out stalls when John walks past, he completely ignores me as he always does so I do the same and get back to work. A few minutes later he goes sprinting back in the opposite direction which I thought was weird but whatever, I kept mucking, until I heard him shouting for help. I went out into the aisle and he’s there shouting at another groom and demanding to know the emergency vets number (it was a weekday morning btw, so he didn’t need the emergency vet, he just needed the regular vet but that’s meaningless anyway). I went over to see what was happening and he tells me his horse (Bert) is ‘acting weird’ and needs a vet immediately, so I offer to go see Bert for myself and then call the vet if necessary.
So basically yeah Bert was masturbating. Had an erection, was rocking about rubbing it on his tummy, and did NOT want anyone going in his stall or touching him. John points at Bert and says something like “see, he’s sick!” and then tells me Bert tried to attack him when he entered the stall and I just, I dunno, I cough and say that Bert is fine and just wants some privacy right now, figuring that the obvious erection might be a giveaway as to what’s happening? But John turned to me and blurts out word for word “are you an actual retard” and then starts cursing at me and telling me I know nothing and Bert needs a vet etc and so on. I kind of blanked on everything else he said after he called me a retard to be honest because WTF? I don’t really know what went on in my brain in the next few seconds but I ended up shouting – yes, shouting, extremely loudly, it fucking echoed in the stable – “he doesn’t need a vet because HE’S JUST MASTURBATING” in John’s face and then walking back to the stall I’d been mucking.
As I got back to the stall I heard laughter from a couple of aisles over. Apparently my co-workers and some riders who were there had all heard me shout and found it hilarious, and that made me laugh too because it was so freaking ridiculous. I honestly kind of forgot the entire encounter afterwards because we had a horse who actually needed a vet a little while later and yeah, John and Bert just slipped my mind.
I didn’t remember until that afternoon when my boss came to see me and said he’d had a complaint from John who wanted me fired. I did not get fired but I did get ‘warned’ (just a formality, my boss didn’t actually punish me but wanted me to act like I had been if John questioned me later, which he never did). John complained that I’d treated him like an idiot, spoken down to him, and “acted above my position” (those were the exact words he used) causing people to laugh at him. I explained the entire situation to my boss, who also laughed, and that was that, nothing else ever came of it aside from my co-workers telling the story of me shouting HE’S MASTURBATING so loudly it scared a pony into jumping so suddenly that it farted to everyone they possibly could.
Since then John has ignored me even more than before which I honestly consider a blessing, and I would leave this situation thinking I’m NTA except that one of my co-workers brought their boyfriend to the stable recently and when they introduced us the boyfriend said something like ‘oh right, you’re the asshole who talks down to people who don’t know everything about horses’ and yeah. My co-worker was blindsided by that as well and we basically both said you don’t have to know everything about horses to know what an erection means, but since then I’ve been wondering if I am TA in this situation? Like, clearly there were better ways to tell John what his horse was doing, but he called me a retard and also I get paid to take care of horses not to teach the birds and the bees to fifty year olds so I don’t know. I’ll let Tumblr decide.
So, AITA for telling John his horse was masturbating?
Additional info: I'm on a rota with other stable hands so I sometimes groom Bert, muck his stall, attend to his vet/farrier appointments, give him worming paste, etc and so on. I am not his trainer and have no input into when he gets to leave his stall. I've mentioned to my boss a couple of times that he boredom stims and should be in a paddock with other young horses, but John refuses to agree to that for reasons I don't know. My boss has since spoken to Bert's trainer who is now trying to convince John to let Bert have more time outdoors.
What are these acronyms?
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